I will describe every conceivable way you can define art only to break it. I want to save you the trouble of making art yourself through these terrible rants! Art is useless, and here's your guide to why with my thesis on the state of the Art Community! (You call yourself an artist? THINK AGAIN!)

This is for those who lost or found their voices. This is for those who could and could not breathe. This is for anyone who is stuck or escaped the dismal abyss of all-consuming emptiness. This is a reminder; a representation of the hardships we collectively face in our separate lives, on opposite parts of the globe. A gentle nudge to the fact that change is constant. Whether it is positive or negative, the outcome depends on you. Only you hold that power to be able to see beyond and into your future. Make it count. I promise you, it is worth it.

"We can't do this." I whisper as our lips re-connect, a tingling fire surging through my body as his hands ravage unexplored lands; my innocence dissipating away with every peck he trails down my neck. "I know we can't. That's why it's so exciting." He replies through kisses. His effortless charm intoxicates me; drowning me; hunting me; devouring me. "What if my brother finds out?" The perpetuated patter of the rain unable to subdue my groan as he digs his nails deeper into my skin. "Who cares." ********** Welcome to my story, where an innocent boy finds a not so innocent boy in his bed; where they do not so innocent things. - YOP