“The pen glides so smooth, yet the words come out so jagged. I kept time by the thoughts that filled up my books. Marking passages and marking flesh. I could only tell time by linking it to emotions and while I dwelled in the diseased ponds of my paragraphs, it still felt like no time had passed.”
I have been working so hard lately. So entirely hard. Draining every last drop of whatever the fuck I am into making this existence tolerable. I am continuing to prepare for a much larger endeavor that will allow you to experience what I do in a much more involved and personal way. I don’t want to say too much at the moment as I do prefer to work on things behind a curtain, but your messages and support through the last few months have not gone unnoticed. It has helped me push just a little bit harder towards my ultimate finality. As an artist I deserve it because I don’t know many like myself who lives what they do and sacrifices to the extent I have for what I have done and will continue to do. I hope that suffering resonates in my work because that has always been my greatest piece. Purgatory seems to be ending and there were days I never thought it would. It’s almost surreal to me now. I’m fucking proud and can only hope that my words have stood as tall as I have lately.
