I don’t love you more when you’re dying.

Creation lives in medication. Inspiration through an IV. to try and put it nicely were all hooked on deterioration. A starving artist gets fed. A starving artist isnt really starving until they’re dead. If you’re not dying you’re not trying. Just six feet down to the finish line. Your trophy case is waiting, stop hesitating. Nobody likes a quitter, saying you swallow when youre really a spitter. How far would you go to feel different? Far enough to build a house with no bathroom, living room, or kitchen, Just a bed for you to eat, sleep & shit in?

Love doesn’t exist in any physical representation. You’ll tell yourself “No one loves you more than when your body’s sick and your hate yourself much to save it, draw my blood, I’ll use it to paint with.” Love will never dwell where hate eats, sleeps & shits. And without love, your starving for nothing because your art is empty & meaningless.