All of my art has a heart at its heart.
Each last foul stroke does stink of some joke.
Every dull day has been if ill play.
Never and not, broken and fraught, all did bleed blue, at last—it was you.
Things change. Some things stay the same.
We don’t know what is what outside of ourselves, and my point is to live earnestly, in honor of what is inside, through every new moment.
Everything we create is for the people we love the most.
Subconscious rhythms do run the show in my art.
I’ve been looking for the who behind so much.
We need to know what is true and false.
Love is kind to those who see.
The heart feels best.
It hurts the most.
Why?
I need help — I’m almost homeless — please be brave for me and help me survive — I do not know why my family will not help me anymore
dontmessthetree@gmail.com
(209) 930 - 9028
