

Dissected Threads
Tread One : The Cycle of Lust as Existential Entrapment
Tread Two : Broken Soul Ties And the Problem Of Trust

“At a young age, he was forced to prevail through hell, throwing pennies into the wishing well, hoping the wishes would heal the scars on his fleshy shell…” “At a young age, he was forced to prevail through hell, throwing pennies into the wishing well, hoping the wishes would heal the scars on his fleshy…

Introduction I am joseph le artist, an artist unravelling the depths of human existence, yet I find myself haunted by a poem that paints the streets in blood and despair. The “roadmen” it describes—lost youths shaped by violence and fatherless homes—are more than figures in an urban tragedy. They are a mirror to a world…

The poet’s words—“The weight of God’s glory / leaves me hunchbacked, like Notre-Dame. / Still, I am capable of withstanding / and bearing the glorious pain / from the colossal weight in my mind”—strike at the heart of a profound philosophical tension: the encounter between the finite human self and the infinite divine. This brief…

The poet’s words—“The weight of God’s glory / leaves me hunchbacked, like Notre-Dame. / Still, I am capable of withstanding / and bearing the glorious pain / from the colossal weight in my mind”—strike at the heart of a profound philosophical tension: the encounter between the finite human self and the infinite divine. This brief…

The poem “Flannel and Cherubim Fabrics” resonates deeply with me, weaving a philosophical reflection on my struggle to define my authentic self against the soft, suffocating threads of cultural expectation. I feel culture stitching my soul with “soft and fuzzy fabrics” of flannel—warm, feminine, cozy—yet these threads leave my heart anxious, my true essence buried…


Dissected Threads
Tread One : The Cycle of Lust as Existential Entrapment
Tread Two : Broken Soul Ties And the Problem Of Trust

“At a young age, he was forced to prevail through hell, throwing pennies into the wishing well, hoping the wishes would heal the scars on his fleshy shell…” “At a young age, he was forced to prevail through hell, throwing pennies into the wishing well, hoping the wishes would heal the scars on his fleshy…

Introduction I am joseph le artist, an artist unravelling the depths of human existence, yet I find myself haunted by a poem that paints the streets in blood and despair. The “roadmen” it describes—lost youths shaped by violence and fatherless homes—are more than figures in an urban tragedy. They are a mirror to a world…

The poet’s words—“The weight of God’s glory / leaves me hunchbacked, like Notre-Dame. / Still, I am capable of withstanding / and bearing the glorious pain / from the colossal weight in my mind”—strike at the heart of a profound philosophical tension: the encounter between the finite human self and the infinite divine. This brief…

The poet’s words—“The weight of God’s glory / leaves me hunchbacked, like Notre-Dame. / Still, I am capable of withstanding / and bearing the glorious pain / from the colossal weight in my mind”—strike at the heart of a profound philosophical tension: the encounter between the finite human self and the infinite divine. This brief…

The poem “Flannel and Cherubim Fabrics” resonates deeply with me, weaving a philosophical reflection on my struggle to define my authentic self against the soft, suffocating threads of cultural expectation. I feel culture stitching my soul with “soft and fuzzy fabrics” of flannel—warm, feminine, cozy—yet these threads leave my heart anxious, my true essence buried…
I’m constantly inspired by Daniel 1:20, where one man’s wisdom shone ten times brighter than his peers, as I strive to grow 10x better every single day. This isn’t just about sharpening my skills or building mental resilience—it’s about carving my own path to personal growth and self-discovery. Is it wrong, as Sade might sing, to pursue individuality while others follow the Pied Piper’s tune, marching toward their downfall? I refuse to blend into that crowd. Instead, I embrace a daily journey of self-improvement, questioning norms, learning relentlessly, and crafting a life that’s authentically mine in a world that often demands conformity.

This commitment to becoming my best self draws people to me, especially women who see me as a unique catch, like a bouquet snatched from life’s fleeting moments. They say my presence is sharp, cutting like a blade through the chaos, offering clarity and charisma. When the world leaves them with emotional pain, they’re drawn to me, hoping to ease their soul’s ache through connection. It’s not just charm—it’s the magnetic allure of living with purpose and authenticity. By focusing on personal development, I become a beacon for others seeking meaning, inviting them to join me in a life of growth and genuine connection.

“At a young age, he was forced to prevail through hell, throwing pennies into the wishing well, hoping the wishes would heal the scars on his fleshy shell…” “At a young age, he was forced to prevail through hell, throwing pennies into the wishing well, hoping the wishes would heal the scars on his fleshy…

Introduction I am joseph le artist, an artist unravelling the depths of human existence, yet I find myself haunted by a poem that paints the streets in blood and despair. The “roadmen” it describes—lost youths shaped by violence and fatherless homes—are more than figures in an urban tragedy. They are a mirror to a world…

The poet’s words—“The weight of God’s glory / leaves me hunchbacked, like Notre-Dame. / Still, I am capable of withstanding / and bearing the glorious pain / from the colossal weight in my mind”—strike at the heart of a profound philosophical tension: the encounter between the finite human self and the infinite divine. This brief…

The poet’s words—“The weight of God’s glory / leaves me hunchbacked, like Notre-Dame. / Still, I am capable of withstanding / and bearing the glorious pain / from the colossal weight in my mind”—strike at the heart of a profound philosophical tension: the encounter between the finite human self and the infinite divine. This brief…

The poem “Flannel and Cherubim Fabrics” resonates deeply with me, weaving a philosophical reflection on my struggle to define my authentic self against the soft, suffocating threads of cultural expectation. I feel culture stitching my soul with “soft and fuzzy fabrics” of flannel—warm, feminine, cozy—yet these threads leave my heart anxious, my true essence buried…