Prosetry is fun.
(Which is just my way of shortening “prose poetry” because who wants to repeat the P sound twice in two syllables right next to each other? Really! Prosetry is obviously superior.)
It forces me to look up words to make sure the meanings (double or not) match up to the ones I have in my head. It forces me to really establish connections between things I see in the real world and things that occur in my mind. It really releases something in my head when I’m finished with it, too; something normally of disbelief that I had written such a thing! And then when everything fits together like the puzzle that it afterward becomes, my shade of the world changes tints as I experience the things I behold with my eyes; not with that of objective views of their properties but of emotions as well. It may well be that writing… just makes life… more fun, more interesting, and more worthwhile.
Yes. I come to these conclusions indeed.
