Nathan Anthony

Seventeen years. That's how long it took for my hand to find a pen that contained ink the same color as my blood. With each stroke I began to build myself on a random page and haven't stopped since. Almost two years later, I've grown some, learned some, lost some, but have mostly changed in the slightest of ways. I like to write for others to read and I appreciate anyone willing to see me. As I speak, I become invisible until each word finds the right home with the flicking of my tongue.
I jump from prose to poetry spontaneously. Enjoy.