The Artist - 2/16/12 - 4/13/12

The man who has everything, within. Conveyed by the hand through either a wide array of utensils or sailing the waves of her beloved curves, finding humor, even in death for its grasp holds no sway.
  
By the drop of a hat or whisp of a feather you will know whether the heart is pure or not. The fire within fueled by the tribulations of past and present yet dowsed by words of deceit that infect the mind to a state of unrest and insecurity but nonetheless...it fuels him such as the inhalations of smoke in a burning building. It’s the state of mind that makes the man who will own the future and rule it in such a manner that he lives, to the fullest and by means of never looking back.
 
 A man of such prestige, an esteemed individual yet the artist all the same. Feared by today's society for their standards are no match for his, they shutter to recall his very memory. But one day he will change the world and write the falsehoods of daemons on the walls of this Asylum in heathen’s blood. To kill the monsters you must become it and when all is said, done and all the evil things lay in the ground still one remains, the beast you became to be capable of the evil necessary to tamper with things that were never of your concern.
 
 To fulfill the task you set out to complete you became the very thing you swore to destroy, your own worst enemy. Hardly the time to right the wrongs stepping toward the guillotine as impending doom approaches you finally realize not every story has a happy ending.
 
I apologize for I must once again escape my mind and return to sanity, it seems as if Jareth desires to continue his onslaught against my consciousness, sadly I am fluent in the language of madness which makes me a fitting opponent. He hates me because I have standards, rules I abide. To be in control is his ultimate wish, odd for one who bathes in chaos, don't get me wrong a little fun isn't bad, this misconception pains me. Over all it is my ultimate goal to contain him fore at the moment of his release he will consume my soul turning me inside out trapping the corpse of a good man within the abyss of a hollow man’s heart becoming the conscience he so desperately tries to deafen”.
  
On that day all will know the battle of Artist vs. Poet and in that moment all inspiration hangs in the balance fore if one dies all genuine creations will be lost for the future with nothing left but remnants of copied and forged creation but never something new ever again in my conflicted world. There is a balance no one should tamper with, things will be as they may and people as they are. But fear not because this too shall pass, the future is in the making and you are the author.