Art, Text & Intertextuality
Imagine postmodern as a white room, and third-world postmodern is a prison cell. Both of which are modern takes on magical realism. A reality that does not co-relate to the life you are going to have once you walk out of that door. The vindictive wall is built by hands of both, because a white... Continue Reading →
Dearest pretty girl, Jesus. Aren't you a tough kid! It's really good, honestly, that survival skill is all you'd need if you could tell me what you're going through now is a small problem compared to those a lot bigger that is about to come in your way. I respect that. Alright, we got this.... Continue Reading →
words can be vile, so i called up a friend to ask about my smile, she says forget it, it is not worth to run a mile, i thought, oh cool, look at us, old school. my friend says, there is nothing more to an act of betrayal, and we weren't talking about being loyal.... Continue Reading →
There is a beauty about language that transforms into a piece of writing. It does sound idealistic, but art is such that it does not hold someone by the neck and shove it down their throat. Not a child, one who is never to be told. Creativity is a discipline. It is wisdom, bordering painful... Continue Reading →
When were you told, she looks pretty, touch but don't hold. When were you told, that's it, go for it! When were you told, look at my dick, you gotta be bold. Friendships. Who are you, to be told, I am not good enough, I won't be whole. Who are you, to be told, I... Continue Reading →
Had I, of dull snacks and fat cats, Enough! Had I, of death threats and mad hats, of girls with nothing sad, and boys with nothing to be glad, of this world on its edge of collapse, thinking about friends who took that step; Enough, Had I, of distraught hope, and momentary joy, all of... Continue Reading →
I wanted to give you the world, But world was already yours, and I wanted to tell you; Be strong. But, strong was what you became, and, I wanted to say; why me if you can't claim? and I am suddenly remembered. But, you are no more the same.
Some times my heart pounds really hard, I can't help but get paranoid and find some respite in that familiar state. Every day, I am tortured by thoughts of being captured, locked and looking out in between prison bars waiting to be home. My anxiety heightened. My wife wants to kill me. But I always... Continue Reading →
NINA 