As I look at myself closely, I see exhaustion. Not the exhaustion that I hate, but the kind that I respect. My ideas, thoughts and emotions are dictating to me what is expected and that can always be an overwhelming experience. I stare at my lips and see evidence of the poisonous remnants of the words I have spit and will continue to. A tonality tunnel that houses the danger that I leave on every pair of lips that have dared to knock on its door. You taste what I am every time you lick your lips and I wash up on your vernacular-shore. There is no shell that echoes my discourse, my pace, because the only shell is you after you long for my taste. I’m so far gone that you would never leave this place fearing you would lose the jagged shape of me with your finger you trace.

My last piece was something so personal that I felt it drain out whatever infection was left in me from that situation. Soothing and tormenting me during the process, but it was much needed and quite effective. My self-harm runs much deeper and exposes itself during these creations, during these moments. It’s very, very evident and I am proud of the display case that I have made for them. I am struggling to keep pace with my ideas and this larger project that I have been eluding to as of late. This is mostly due to the construct of time and whatever is left of my human qualities yet to erase. I’m debating taking a little time away from posting to better serve this larger endeavor that is the natural next step for me as an artistic entity. Either way, I am pushing myself to finish this within the next two months. Whether I keep posting on a weekly basis or not, realize I am working tirelessly and feverishly because who I am won’t let me stop. I love you all, always.

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