Working underground. The synthesis. Kept under cover. The only way to say it is by coming out and saying it!
Social blockages, false economic systems. The zombie apocalypse. I march thru that murk. Can't stop here to smell the flowers. The stench of death and no horizon,the outside bio-hazard, so then I am my own pure life inside my own person.
To stare down tragedy, I'm too desperate to despair and have no tragic element - to survive. Divine comedy I procure where if you hear it you laugh, if you read it you weep. Make the all seeing eye blink.
Deliver the message with The Voice! Create a work where the audience have to build it in their mind to figure it out. The depth of the art tells a story. Not of the creator but of the synthetic underground. Modes of being.
(oooh reminds me I have a book to finish, could help with finishing unfinished thoughts)
Hug Life is Thug Life minus the T