I think that everything in life is art. And I adore art. I think that the way you smile is the same kind of art that Leonardo da Vinci made. The teardrops that fall from your eyes remind me of the way Vincent Van Gogh painted. Life is a masterpiece. I see beauty in even the most destructive forms of art. Art is the sunset, art is a humming bird flying by, art is the ink on the pages in a book, art is the strange silence in the middle of the night, art is the stars in the sky, art is peace but art is also war, art can be found just as readily in destruction as it can in creation, art is the way a conscience twists words into you like a knife to your heart, art is carnage, art is the hue of blood spattered across a canvas, art is the way a body moves, sinewy muscles rippling underneath the thin layer of skin, art is the way a cunning mind executes something with precision, art is deadly, art is breathing life into a drowning man, art is arguing against your demons, art is surviving, art is the stars in your blood, art is humanity, art is the way a pride of lions take down an antelope, art is life and art is death, art is beauty, art is everything and nothing all at once. You are art, and so am I. Your silent screams are art, your tears are art, the way you move is art, the way you breathe is art. You are art, you are beauty. You are life, and you are humanity.
Art is the way a knife cuts into flesh, it\'s the soothing noise that the rain makes as the sky cries, art is music pouring into your ears, it\'s the macabre silence of a massacre, art is sculpting something out of nothing, art is a broken heart, art is the thrashing wind, it\'s the desolate wilderness, art is pigments and watercolors, art is light, art is darkness, art is shadows and rays of sunlight, art is all the grays, art is the simple things in life, art is the complexity of a creature that was once a single celled organism, art is the nebulae, art is a STORM, art is an EXPLOSION, art is ethereal, but art is also eternal, art is a RAINBOW, art is soft like the snow falling down.
So many people say that if it\'s dark, it isn\'t art. But there is a desolate art and beauty in death. There\'s a twisted beauty that comes with the rougher edges in life, and despite its darkness, it is still art. And it\'s beautiful, in its distorted and sharp way, because art is something that makes you feel something.