I was born with a heart

that wasn’t built to last.

And maybe that’s why mine

was forged differently.

Forced to beat in a rhythm not its own.

 

It taught me one thing, though

If I’m here, I’m not here to survive.

I’m here to feel.

I’m here to see.

I’m here to burn.

 

I don’t write to impress.

I write to reveal.

My words aren’t decoration.

They’re demolition.

They don’t tear through the surface.

They seduce it.

Then, break it open.

 

I write to bring people back

into contact with their depth—

to remind them

that beauty isn’t soft,

it’s sharp.

Like truth.

Like memory.

Like clarity.

 

I might look a certain way.

But if that’s all you see

You’ll miss everything.

I’m not here to be liked.

I’m here to wake you the fuck up.

 

I tend to see what others ignore:

The subtle links between

emotion and intellect,

art and execution,

desire and presence.

That’s what being awake costs you.

That’s why I don’t walk alone.

But in solitude.

Not for style. But by design.

 

Masculine by nature.

Creative by necessity.

I carry intensity

the way others carry politeness.

It’s in how I speak.

How I decide.

How I move.

How I take people apart with words –

and sometimes rebuild them.

 

I lead.

I create.

I question.

I seduce.

And sometimes, yes, I destroy.

But never without awareness.

Never without responsibility.

Never without depth.

 

I speak to the ones who feel too much,

burn too long,

and ask too many questions.

To the ones who never found home—

so they started building their own.

 

I speak to the awake

To the restless.

To the ones

who know there’s more.

 

If you’re someone who sees the cracks

in this sleepwalking society—

if you still crave real connection,

real reflection,

real creation—

you’ll find something here.

 

Not always easy.

Never shallow.

But always honest.

Always sharp.

Always human.

 

You’re not here by accident.

Welcome to my orbit.

Welcome to my pleasure dome…