art is an interchangeable form.
what is poetry can be prose can be music can be art can be TV can be movies can be video games can be visual novels can be webcomics can be dance can be movement can be aesthetics can be a flash of inspiration hidden behind a street corner.

art is a connective process.
you forge new threads between yourself, others, and the world around you.
you realize the universe is so much bigger than yourself. and yet, you discover just how you can be a part of it, just how you can fit in.

through art we are not human, yet art is the most human form of being there is.
art motivates us not just to live, but to thrive. it shows us the evidence of why we should all still be alive.

and to appreciate art, is no less than to make it.
to create, is no lesser or greater than to be.

go feel art.
go make art.

go be art.

On a velvet night,
so silent and heavy
that the breath of life itself seemed an intrusion,
Vincent smiled and bid the world goodbye,
he closed his eyes
and left to join the landscape of his paintings

Let me love you
in all the ways I know,
in all the ways I want.

Let me surprise you
beyond all the conventions
of how people love,
beyond the borrowed stories
told for centuries,
of others loving others
by someone else’s rules.

Let me be myself
in love
for you.

I promise it will be
special,
unique,
unknown,
a mosaic of new facets,
still undiscovered.

For love is art
never poor in method,
never demanding
what to do,
how to be.

And since love is art,
let me be the artist
to paint love
in every color
that ever existed
on earth,
in the heavens,
in my heart,
and your thoughts.

make the art you search for
the kind of art
you never find
but always feel.

the kind that
holds your hurt
without asking a million times,
"why?"
the kind that feels
like being seen.

and maybe it's not out there
because it's waiting
for you
to create it.

Antivertising art:

an advertising column --


that is a mirror.

You’re the reason every song turns into a requiem.
Even the happy ones bend under the weight of your name.

The reason love walks with a blade behind its back,
because you turned it into something I had to survive.

You’re the reason
breathing feels borrowed.
Like I’m stuck in a waiting room
with no doors,
no answers,
just clocks that won’t tick
and memories that don’t know how to leave.

You’re the reason I bleed into pages,
why I stretch sorrow into sentences,
why I carve light
from the ruins.

You taught me grief in its native language,
how to cradle absence like a relic,
how to shape silence into meaning.

You’re the reason I learned to carry longing
instead of trying to cure it.
To live inside the hollow
and still find warmth.

You’re the reason I know
that love and loss
can belong to the same moment.

You are my reason.
The one that never left.

Creating majesty with the maggots.
Creatures crawling in the filth
will always have a feast.
Grabbing the greatest and the least
decay persists.
Get comfortable with chaos.
Create

We must carry great faith in our young writers,
I must carry great faith in me,
Carry great faith in he, they, she,
Who?
Those who will inherit the art we cherish,
Keep it close, stringing together what emotions were lost,
We know the real cost.

I am a quiet, silent man,
Dwelling deep within myself.
What I long to say aloud,
I pour into a letter’s shell.

She, playful, fleeting like the breeze,
All that I express in words,
She replied with a single image,
And spoke with her eyes unheard.

How beautiful those nights once were,
What magic lived in those old days!
Today again, my heart desires
To send you a letter… always.

But this time, through an artist's hand,
This letter shall reach your grace.
Some words of the heart remain unsaid,
That only colors can embrace.

To the painter I make one humble plea
When you read my letter’s line,
Sketch her soul upon the page,
And let her truest face shine.

Let us see
If my words still hold the weight
Of truth, of ache, of silent grace.
And if she, when the artist paints,
Still wears that same beloved face...
Or was it all just well-performed
a role she played through posed displays?