I've always thought of what I do as poetry. Not the kind you read in books, but the kind you see on walls. Each piece has a rhythm to it — the way the characters stack, the space between them, how they breathe together. That's no different than verses on a page. The difference is I invented the alphabet. Most writers work with letters someone else gave them. I built mine from scratch, from pieces of Arabic, Hebrew, Egyptian, Gothic — whatever spoke to me. So when I write on a wall, I'm not just making words. I'm using a language that exists only in that moment, on that surface. Look at the piece in the image — the skull, the cross, the way the lines radiate out like light. That's a poem about mortality and transcendence. You don't need to read the symbols to know that. The composition tells you. Before writing was functional, it was magic. Marks on a wall that carried meaning beyond themselves. That's what I'm still doing.
