Sometimes with me writing is a double handed knife wielding gorging to find something inside of humanity that I don't understand. And other times its all just mischief. Actually most of the time its just mischief. It's a fuck you against all my childish fears, it a fuck you to the days when I was called stupid, it's a fuck you when I feel stupid for no reason. It's a middle finger to flat toned voices asking "Why?", saying "Isn't it too late?" "But you aren't very good?" It's my universal answer on a daily basis to going on. To saying no more. A scream in the night. A whittling of a wooden God that loves all and not just those who can attend the meeting and initial their attendance for later review. So yea, here's a answer because I get asked a lot.
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