The Avant-garde In Every Field Consists Of

You Love Me. You Ignore Me. You Save My Life, Then You Cook My Mother Into Soap.

You Spend Your Entire Life Becoming God And Then You Die.

We Can Spend Our Lives Letting The World Tell Us Who We Are…or We Can Decide For Ourselves.

The Lucky Ones Are Just Born Dead.

Any 'artist' Makes A Living By Expressing What Others Can't - Because They're Unaware Of Their Feelings, They're Too Afraid To Express Those Feelings, Or They Lack The Skills To Communicate And Be Understood.