i will drown in my mastery

Do I seem like the type to be content with only offering a portion of myself to attain mastery? I am not, and I must drown in my ambition for this skill until I can no longer stick my hands above the surface of the water. I want to feel the liquid fill my lungs completely, until all I feel is the weight in my chest and the air struggling to break in. All I have created and yearned for, would not be what it was without the fountains of blood I have shed to refine it. Artists are seen as ruthless and lucid madmen, who strip their skin and bone to infuse into their works. They are misunderstood, and there is a point within no man will understand, and it makes them wonderful. The blood and weapons of my creators stain and strengthen the stitches on my creations. And you, a piteous archetype, remain blissfully unaware of the destruction of the worlds around you. But I see. I have documented it all in the linings of my stitches, and the foundations of my work. But the stitches would be the wrong shade of red without my blood mixed within. go back