Might I compare you to a mobile phone?

You please the eye much more than any skin.

Swift fashion's end will seek to switch my tone,

Just as I've learned to love the trend I'm in.

Auto-correct quickly creates a fool.

Given my words, it will not learn your name.

Once useful features turn against the tool;

When texting, profound words of love read lame.

Yet your unique style cannot be replaced.

Though you may change, beauty still reins your heart.

No slave to fashion, trends set, not embraced,

You will forever be the height of art.

While blood keeps pace with electricity,

More precious than the iPhone you will be.

Pounding, banging,

a cacophony of the unwanted.

Every look, every gesture,

welcomes in a new wave of

doubt,

fear,

paranoia.

Every sight, every perception,

adds to the clanging,

the throbbing

of an internal hailstorm.

Brought without cause,

manifested by thought,

ingrained by habit,

the eyes dart,

the heart quickens,

the breath halts,

All masked with a smile and a nod.

This is unusual but I am going to put down my own entry here. I really want to get to know people who create the high quality content Prose is known for.

For me writing is one of the ultimate skills capable of constantly improving and even capable of transforming ones life when used properly by brave individuals who are both fearless and determined to change their lives through writing. 

Writing is my favorite thing to do. I love to spend hours at a keyboard typing something witty, something well-researched, and eventually sharing it with the world through the internet. I am happy I live in an age where my age is not capable of preventing me from writing and being taken seriously as a writer. I am happy I live in an age where through the internet my writing is capable of being seen and reacted to, without any barriers. 

I write for a variety of reasons. Depending on my mood I can write to educate people, or I can write to get people to take my arguments seriously (and to come to the same conclusions I have), or solely to entertain. I also possess an unshakable belief that writing is a tremendous skill and one that can change lives and even the world, particularly in this age where even language is no longer an obstacle to those who are truly determined to overcome it. Writing now matters more than ever because the barriers to entry to writing are fading away now more than ever. No longer is age a factor for serious writers, or language, or even the lack of a publisher.  

I write because I want to leave a mark on the world around me. I want to do this through entertainment, through education, and through affecting how people think. I want to challenge how people think. I want to make people reconsider their positions, while also granting them entertainment. I want people to consider new positions and challenges to their beliefs seriously, while giving them something in return: entertainment. For me writing quality literature is entertaining and reading writing of high quality is also entertainment. 

I write because writing enables me to strength my voice. I write because through writing I can change minds and converse seriously with other historians, with other thinkers and people who believe they can use their writing to shape their reality. It's remarkable to me that I can write this freely and I intend to use that as much as I can, and eventually I believe I'll be able to make a living through my own writing. 

I would love to know why you write! 

Treading unbeknownst in every mind, a lurking shadow without figure. Ethereal, fantastical, a character of the mind, his existence is whispered into the crevices of the world. At the dawn, so it is. He remains elusive in the fabrics of fiction. 

As the beams of life start to emanate across the horizon, his shadow begins to take form and solidify. His imminent presence brings a cloud of dread. As the first icy breath tickles the back of your neck, he steals the irretrievable, leaving only the black knife that pierces you. It is poisoned, spreading its cold, ruthless venom to every fiber of your being. You see him clearly for the first time; an enemy is born. 

You live with the mark of his darkness for some time, before once again you feel the crawl of his fingertips along your spine. The knife drives with familiarity this time, but just as raw, just as agonizing. The animosity turns to ache, capitulation, despair. He is the victor, and you fall slave to his musings, hypnotized by the prospect of finality. He turns you against his opposer, and now a new hatred, a new rivalry forms; he is now your savior from all that is wrong. But he passes by you, leaves you to the pain, the turmoil, as you await his rescue. You beg and plead into the heedless night for the nameless stranger to offer his companionship, to vanish into his domain.

No word, no whisper of his whereabouts. You must move on and let his shadow fade into the distance. For he does not offer comfort. He is distant and cold, fraught with purpose. Let him diminish into the recedes of the universe, you will come to know him in time. When dusk sets in, his figure will loom larger, more vivid, more tangible. No knife, no enmity, an embrace awaits, familiar and welcome, as equals you become with a final breath. 

Please come in, my little friend,

Take off your coat before we begin.

Relax, take a deep breath, we'll be her awhile-

Oh my! princess, what a precious smile.

I have quite a bit of time to kill,

My plans, I hope, will be such a thrill.

Let's jump right in with your darkest fears,

You know, the ones that leave you in tears?

Oh, too much, my dear? Then what about dreams?

Of kings and queens and guillotines.

Or when you're falling and falling, screaming with no sound-

I love that one! Have you dared to hit the ground?

I'm also fond of the one when your teeth fall out- 

Big ol' chunks of chompers- that's gonna leave a puckery pout!

Let's not forget the one when you're at school

Without so much as a stitch; your lithe nakedness exposed by a ghoul.

Do you dread public speaking? Now that's a bitch!

The cruelest of tortures, spawned by some wretched witch.

Picture your audience in their undies, perhaps pray for lightning,

Any way you slice it, tell me it's not bloody frightening.

So now that we're in it, love, and it's sticky and thick,

I want you to tell me just what makes you tick.

You've stayed rather quiet, pet, which is just as I feared,

So say something, Goddamnit! or I'll garrote you ear to ear!

Now I've gone and done it, I've scared you, my love.

But I just need to be part of you, like wings on a dove.

You see, I know you well, sweetheart, I have and always will;

I'm that shadow in the night, the itch you dare not scratch,

      in the heat I'm the sudden chill.

I do hope you're comfortable, my child, for I've planned your extended stay.

As I said before- I've plenty of time to kill- but you'll not be allowed to stray.

Oh, did I happen to mention, my sweet, this just happens to be my birthday!