My Work

Seems grandiose, eh? This is one of the more modest, amongst the actual titles I was able to workshop, believe me! And I’d hope by now you’ve read at least one or two of these here Pickup Truck Diaries, so you are well aware already that I love being grandiose and mock-megalomaniacal for the sake...

Campfire. Come gather 'round the campfire. Let me tell you a story. Several small ones, in fact! It started a month or two ago, when I had a bunch of hits on "Our Better Angels" via the 'ol analytics. Now, I've been running this little business for half a decade - so out of neurotic perfectionism,...

Orb-web spiders,Weaving in space.Delicate strings holding us up,Giving us leverage against,Cruelest gravity.May our webs remain strong,Spun against the triad of fates,Themselves.Foes we battle daily,In forging new futures.Upon silken strands,In defiance of gravity.

I'll love you until the end of time.See,I was a banged up,Fucked up little kid.Problems upon problems.Traumas inside abuse.I've hurt enough.Don't want anybody else -To suffer like I did.But,All I can offer is love.Hoping even the smallest drop,Can carry us all through.I really hope so.

FUCK NO!You KNOW I despise shilling myself!The creed of some?Indie Underground Artists,Like me;Is that art should be free.Devoid of capitalist worth,Dictated by perceived value -In dollars.Fuck all that!I'm me.McRae.Want everything I make to be accessible:Unbound from capitalist norms.

Singing silence,Ringing in our ears.Hums of electricity.Existing in excess,Hearing every sound.Catching every detail.Sensation overload.Maddening states of being.Only solution,Is often to drown it all out.Dozen distractions.Hell,Can even hear my heartbeats.

I am tired of fighting.To exist.To survive.To simply be.Born wrong,Into a world that hates you.Black strings,Dragging on the soul by the dozens.Eventually they slow you down,Your stubborn survivalism fades.You surrender to it.Let yourself drown in the inky pools. Let the black ichor rise,Slowly...

Gorge upon my flesh.Heaven knows I have enough,To spare.Grotesque truths,Bubbling in metaphysical cauldrons,Pounds to spare.Nothing is cheaper than free,Even if we still hunger -For our pound of flesh.Even if we haggard myriad,Fail to coalesce.Eschewing form entirely,Would be preferable.

Who am I?Cartoon supervillain,Broken metaphor -The neurodivergent child,Playing at superman.Son of a logger,Scarred savant.Who am I?Thousand selves,Chained by monks.World Serpent -Infinite Hunger.Obese daydreamer,A shoddy attempt at Buddha.Beast.Animal.Machine.

Yet -I'm never without many scores,Of my own flaws.Both demons I've chained,Within my mausoleums,As well as more modern spectres.Flashes of dopamine before my eyes.They called me a villain.A role I was typecast to play.Antagonist,Eternally.Theatre,Turned real.Let me tell you a tragedy:

"They screamed,& screamed.Terrified by the coming,Of a World Serpent.Infinite,Forever,Endless.No beginning or end,To contain it.'By the time I am done with this species,Villains like me,Will have done more for my brothers,& sisters,Than the heroes ever did.'New eras,Of darkest hope."

A love of masks,Wearing faces like clothing.…Who are you?…Dunno.You forget who you started as,Fading into fractals of self.The goddess of a thousand masks -No face beneath.Formless and muted,Strewn across a dozen timelines.Fractured amongst a hundred realities.

The moment,Your Abrahamic Religion,Gets anywhere near me or my art?Fuck off.I'm fighting for a Humanity left behind,After I die,Returning to nothingness.You're seeking salvation in an afterlife.We're not the same.Not to mention Christian Nationalists…Crazies.Ignorant,Bigoted,Mostly.

I am cursed,In that I will likely be alone forever -It feels like.I know the bell curve,Know the averages,Know too much.Would I be blissfully ignorant.Hunting someone with emotional,And intellectual intelligence to rival a savant!A fool's errand.For an accused fool.

Hunger.All we ever knew.Wretches crawling in the dirt,And muck.Stained with black moly grease and sawdust.Cedar bark memories,Painted histories like sunsets.Survived Pickup Truck Diaries,A testament to our divinity.Cackling at seraphim,Middle fingers at our demons.

THIS.This is how the world ends.Not with your cowardly whispers.WITH A BANG.Fangs closing upon the crust,Piercing wells down to molten rock.Mantle frothing,Magma blending with blackest venom.Your toxicity is noted.Your pollution is evidence.Your crimes recorded.Extinction would be a gift,To humans...

Come, little moths.I am the radiance of a thousand suns,Caged inside a black hole.Flare brightly,Match such power with a vengeance.Glow bright.Fly true.