

Creative StatementI am the magic man studiously standing on the corner of every metropolitan metropolis managing a makeshift million dollar design. A collection of half assed ideas cleverly disguised as a handful of crumpled dollar bills stuffed into an acid soaked McDonalds medium sized soft drink savings account.Creative Statement
I am the man with the mega phone phrasings philosophical pleasantries foolishly boasting a blaming finger at your choice and offensively offering a one way ticket to eternal damnation. I am a rancid rambling redundancy relentlessly roasting the backsides of every jive turkey that keeps on trucking tiresomely towards tomorrow.
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The Traveler ivI am crawling on my belly for I have lost my feet to the road. Alone I drag my stumps through the muck and mold. And mildew it sticks to my arms and legs left behind from the beast of burden carrying my ways. I am pulling at the earth trying to get to you, but the distance between seems so obtuse. Confused by the weather, and the falling rain, I count the sand along the trail, every single grain. Deep within the murky mud I float slowly to the broken shore. Caked with earth and leaves in my hair I can feel the first signs of sprouts growing out of my ears.The Traveler iv
My fingers hurt, they are bruised and callused and my thumbs ar


The Traveler iiiI have brittle bones for I am an old man. I have wisdom beyond belief, but this I simply cannot understand. I met a lonesome traveler onc night as I watched a Sheppard tend to his herd. The traveler sat upon a stump and played the most mournful fiddle Ive ever heard. I cautiously approached as not to cause alarm. I stood utterly perplexed to discover he had no arms. Snakes replace his face, and he had fire for hands, a tattered black robe and a tail of sand. I stood terrified but unable to move, as the fiddle grew strong and louder with gloom. With every stroke of the bow and strings I envision, horrid places of agony and submission. IThe Traveler iii


The Traveler iiI stand barefoot at the edge of a road reminding myself that I have no home. The fog is so heavy I can barely see the thicket ahead. Solemnly I stand full of weary and dread. I dreamt last night so vivid and real I could almost taste your lips as they flaked and peeled. Quickly I reset and catch my emotions, for my mind is full of desires as wide as the oceans. These points I know see are the end.The Traveler ii
To my left is a field with poppies running rapid and wild flowers stretching as far as the Atlantic. Like a sea of greens, and oranges and reds, if you stood in the middle I would follow as you led. To my right is a fright and terrible
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