I was asked what my agenda is.
What the purpose of my writing is.
For once, I had no witty assinine comment. ( I don't care if it is witty or not this is my delusion so we’re both stuck with it. Besides my back space like my back up and back down is busted so phbbbttt.)
I thought about it.
I have three simultaneous intents that I have codified so far.
This is probably subject to change as I invent new excuses.
(1)
I want to be the infected giant boil on the ass of complacency and narcissism. Not an, THE boil that drives em crazy.
(2)
I want to bring comfort to the broken,
Lance the boil and drain out the poisons sickening our whole world.
(3)
I want to call people up, to become, free, to choose courage,
To risk Love.
To learn to pick the rose and enjoy the wonder, knowing the thorns help give it meaning.
Not sure if that qualifies as an agenda.
“One sweet rose, Perfect, Complete with thorns. Be wary, The most beautiful Are the most dangerous. The prize is worth it's price”