Deep inside, within me, there is a silent war. I've always been a fighter. Struggling, fighting, cursing, shouting, screaming and dying. I have not know anything else. Inherited from my elders, who are notorious and dangerous as well. I've learned from them. Damned by them and cursed by them. From their guns, from their grudges, from their anger.

As strange as it is, I love them. I love these killers, these haters, these loners, these dark civilians who know no other way to deal with their emotions, but to destroy or create. They are like me. Passionate to every extreme. Anger wields me like a blade as love seduces me into a sweet dark embrace. The way of our destruction is the same. Yet where they create with music, I create with art. I cannot control these storm of emotions, burning just beneath the surface of me.

There is a part of me that I cannot control. It shows in my paintings, in my sculpture... born into creation by the work of my own two scarred hands. It is dark and reveals itself upon my canvas. Its eyes stare back from the beings I paint, angel or demon may they be.

I do not know what places it there. It hides in the kiss brush, through the slide of pencils and through my crooked fingers. Inside, something is telling me a secret. A secret that is still locked within my paintings.

Yet in my problems, in my hate, my anger, my madness and insanity, I need to create. I need to lose myself in my world of black colors and dark imaginings. I feel comfort... and yet do I dare pick up my brush?

If I do not, the only other way is destruction... I have so much within me that I need to let out. To give it free rein through destruction, others will be pained by my thoughts, my feelings, my words, my actions... Yet when I look at my art, I feel a never ending pain. I am trapped. I want to build something, paint something, create something. Let my hatred spill onto the canvas, let the colours take it away from me and cleanse my soul... Forgive me, but I'm too scared to see what my art will show. The secret for it stirs a deadly brew.

I fear that, what lives within me.

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