I am, I was, I were.

An artist moving through life, looking for possibility to exist. I put forth creative barricades. Words appear. I function best through thoughts and take what is necessary. I realize worlds in my invention, because they are there. Things might seem broken coming from my mind, forms and twists-of-forms still realized, or left in the background. Curses! What might be, what must be...where do all these thoughts end?

I speak from my intent to broadcast, and filter through purpose. I write, I make pieces of thoughts which swell from their bounds to contain the entire message, forming the experience through a realm of pure creativity. Phrases come in spite of themselves, leaving holes in meaning out of necessity, and then it's on to next thread with no rhyme or reason. Hidden arts spring up all over my path, and I am left to the right, or so it seems. What I mean is I can't find a course to correct myself into...it all just blurs together. But I do all right.

There is a principle to this. A form in what is laid down. I am many things, and many things come through me. Forms I am reminded of when living in service to self. I remember this while putting down purpose in what I am saying, the substance that I leave. As you might have gathered from what I have stated already I am an experimental being. This is the nature of this text, as in every text I have written from a position of pure expression. It spirals.

There are many reasons I have for what I do. I express so that I can hold something forever. I take part in the game of life, eager for that which I take in and that which I push out. Birth. Choice. Freedom. My game is to have all my peices projected and lasting, ultimately, so that the creations I share have a chance to land, to stick, to finalize. This is where I take intent to move forward, in the world of make-beleive.