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The art of futility

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  Creation doesn’t save. Art stabilises. That’s why art continues after belief has died. Not because it promises something— But because consciousness cannot stop itself. The will to create isn’t heroic. It’s involuntary. A reflex. The art of futility A spoken monologue I don’t make art because it matters. I make it because consciousness produces excess. And excess demands release. That’s the first lie we’re taught—that art points toward truth. Truth doesn’t need us. It existed before our gestures and will remain after our silence. Art isn’t revelation. It’s a regulation. An overdeveloped mind can’t remain idle. Thought accumulates. Pressure builds. Expression becomes a discharge—not a message. This isn’t noble. It’s biological. Paintings. Texts. Sounds. Images. All variations of the same maneuver. Not transcendence . Containment . Once you see this, ambition collapses. Influence. Legacy. Relevance. These are metaphysical debts art can no longer pay. The work is finished the moment...
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Celeste Pathological Calm

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Does it move you away from hate
Onward one step at a time
Further on from death

You are reassured, self-motivated and calm
Find the separation between the civilian and personal mindset
Power and welfare
Autonomously permitted through rank

Changed by your cultured stance
Identified as the essential mechanism of the situation
I am better than thee

The space between relationships well-being responsiveness, reactive thinking, and stress triggers
Purposed to be in the game





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