;we are strange;
i think we become rather good at things by being strange.
those who don’t know how to dance may have a pelican-like contortion hidden inside their bones, waiting to be released.
those whose words get stuck in their throat may benefit when their most alien-like thoughts are declared.
those who cannot sing but only warble, those who cannot paint but only thrust color in chaos, those who cannot build may construct the most delightful oddities the eye has seen.
when i dance i want to be free like a shaking preying mantis devouring the head of a fly. when i paint i want my disrespect for form and structure to unnerve you. when i sing i want to screech and clear the room, once filled with people. when i build i want also to destroy function. when i fuck i want to die, over and over again.
society wants us to be beautiful in our constraints. let us be hideous and rip them to shreds.