I recognize myself as being, as light, as my own truth and yet I feel my voids in every word I speak, but are they voids? are they truly voids or my mind coming to a point because it can not find the roundness. As my work matures it becomes foggy as to what direction I stride in… though I am lost in the belly of the beast I am humbled by the soothing it brings me. But I continue, I continue, I continue, I do not end, I do not end, I will not end.
I’ve been knocked down, and analytically dissected but you have no power over me, you can not feel the immense feelings that I feel.
The depth of the soul can be reached, it will take years…. but I will reach it with every understanding, with every triumph, and every downfall. I am not marked by my passing I am marked by my present.
I’ve been painfully emotional in the dealing with my current
my dreams speak to me… when I sleep at night, they help me understand what I am trying to discover, what I will become. My dreams give me the most comfort in the cynical world around me,
I love my dreams… no one can take them, no one can understand them, and no one knows a fucking thing about them.