Section I - The Dead Breeds

An abstract, artful poetry series about the relation between darkness and beauty and the relation between insensitivity and light.

Marching down the black steel tracks, an amusing rail for the ones whom need support from the kind, real receptors. Receptive aches, your quaking hand of pen-ink outtakes. Intakes of harshness and broad breathes isolate, chimerical relief.

Through beckoning the farthest outskirts of the dream; your dream; the foundation of an excellent, virtually chatoyant, infinite transcendence.

An immaculate surface of horizontal lines and grey veins of attempt. A gaping throat of venomous drawers opening with an onyx padlock unleashing waves of promising, nail-biting, excited choices of uncertainty. Few, fully developed conscious' can easily grasp this ambiguity. Once they begin to look past the shapes and squiggles, they will efficiently unlock each of these karmatic, cross-spirited drawers. Violent reactions, and passive realizations will both be present when the master key is unhooked from the chain hanging on their back ends.

Stop pointing to points of sense and realism. Take a step back from these mock-philisophical indications and look at the image as a scene in a grainy photograph. There is no such thing as an item or idea that is not created through an artist's eyes. It is all a photograph. It is all a painting. It was birthed for the entertainment of, how they will say, psychotic dead-breeds. What a pleasant chuckle to that analysis. I persist with exoneration that art is not for those who suffer sociopath-like tendencies, but for those whom are visibly freed from such an illness. The ill and the broken, the sociopaths are the ones who cannot appreciate the art form.

It is a constraining effort to break the ties of the mentally ill, the average dead breeds. Don't be bemused, I mentioned dead breeds as being the introverts who find the dark and the unnerving to be beautiful artistic compositions. But no, the ones who do not feel this way, are the dead breeds. The ones who follow an insistent and confining path of the machine. A systematic breakdown of the heart - a spiritual suicide. These sheep have painful ulcers and panic attacks as they grow supported by a slavery-nexus. They do not persist to absorb the divinity of nightmares, but rather shun them and end up seeking a stress-driven, carved-out path of artificial stimulus and pseudo-happiness. Do not accept their sugar-coated lies, or their systematic lifestyle they have tagged with red lights. You follow no path that does not entail your own conditions. 

This is why art is challenged, this is why the dark and morbid is considered as evil and wrong. You and I are not misfits for destiny or consciousness. However in all respects, who is to say? Well, I am sure it is not the dead breeds who say.

- Zack Valenta