“Dirt Beneath the Hollywood Sign”

Building and breaking lives.

I didn’t know which way to go, what to desire. The nothingness was too heavy to continue to bear, my mind’s eye too tired from trying to blink my lifeless future away. So I made my decision and claimed my destiny as world revolutionary.

Musical commander, safeguarded by a camaraderie of angels and demons. But still just another tragic famous person—doing ordinary magic, making art out of liquefied brain matter.

Uncontrollably shaking and aching.

Producing my own tear crystals from scratch. Teetering off the stage, the edge of a cliff, the original resurrected.

Coming from dust to bright lights, and back to dust.