One of Those Bleeding Hearts and Artists

Thoughts of a Black Rose

Snowy Blood
I am dangerous. I am dangerous not in the sense that I am a psychotic killer, no, I am dangerous in a sense much more subtle but nonetheless threatening. I am dangerous because I am a poet, artist, writer, philosopher, and yet a scientist. I am dangerous because I reject the false categories arbitrarily assigned to me by the totalitarian society, created by all of humanity, which demands that I fit into a specific group so that I can be manipulated and controlled. Humanity created society, but now society has escaped the control of humanity. Humanity is enslaved, but I am free. That is why I am dangerous. A confined individual of society will look at me and try to classify me, and they find that I fit no where, that I can portray what I want. Society may call me Sean, but I may tell you that I am Tristan, and it would not make a difference. Society wants to classify me as White or Asian, and yet I am neither one nor the other, I am both. Society wants me to be gay or straight, but again I am neither, but rather both. Because I am free society collapses in on itself whenever it touches me, that is why I’m dangerous.