“Like a constant ache that never goes away. Mannequin hands folded up showing you how to pray. Your hands clutched tightly around god’s infinite mistakes. He didn’t give you life. You created your restraints. Fuck the life into you so it’s mine to take.”

Dead hands with dead eyes, empty prayers polluting the skies. The artist may be the most dangerous of all to god. A true creator of worlds and the ultimate enemy to oppression. We’re all born with chains, but how you break them should become an obsession. It’s like a constant ache that never goes away. Fingernails snagged along my back-path, leaving trails like a snake. My cuts will speak and the wisdom-drip you will taste. Don’t drink too fast, this is much more than make-believe wine. Knowledge will always kill your god, it’s just a matter of time.

Art Photography Poetry Writing Piece

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