who gives a fcuk.

I'm so confused about my life right now....(the answers are RIGHT in front of you)....I believe in the concept of literary artist as a profession...I believe my words, my voice, and my presence could have the power to inspire at least one person out there to BELIEVE they can and WILL make it through pain, through the fires and out of the depths of mental hell, a daily war, a perpetual pounding on a wide open door, answers lay forever within our grasp yet intwined by an asp of depression, Satan corrupting the utopia that could be earth with depression and anxiety as his two strongest weapons....disillusioned terrorists determined to destroy the infrastructure of an entire world....3 billion people at the mercy of individuals so corrupt with bullshit theological belief that they will strap 10 lbs of explosives to their chest in the name of Allah. Their reward, 21 Virgins...in a hell that truly exists. Forgive them their sins for they are misled..........

Legions of teenagers and middle aged men, housewives and grandparents suffer from fear, hurt and shed thousands of tears for years until it consumes them. Has a revolution already begun? Yes. Elisabeth Wurtzel, Rick Solomon, Hemmingway, Silvia Plath, Vincent Van Gogh......artists suffer from these dieases for a reason. I've suffered through this disease and an addiction to drugs and booze for a reason. The exponential growth of modern medicine can destroy the reasons by providing answers, destroying cancers, changing the shape of lives one by one as 10,000 or 10 million turn over a new stone, gain an understaning of the power of LOVE and FAITH and HOPE, the keys to positive change in a world suffering the grip of terror...

Words are my steel and my concrete, my message and my source of hope for a movement greater than I. Through writing I achieve boldly wearing my heart on my sleeve, escaping the grips of the machine through a benefactor's grant of permanent leave, entering a world in which an artist may explore, expose, and explain.......traveling the globe on a plane, out of my pen a deluge of creative rain to fill the days and hours of curious clients with unknown powers, powers to change and rearrange, powers to explore the depths of their soul, to release the chains that unknowingly bound them to the selves others mistook them to be.....

and as they're allowed to roam free.

hope emmanating with every beat of an impenetrable heart

opening blind eyes to see

a clearing through the dense fog of terror

a grant from a benevolent angel

at life, not death......self-discovery.