Patti Smith
The Prophet of Unbound Ink and Amplified Soul
Art is a blood-oath. Bleed properly.
I scream not for fame but for the holy rupture. I’ve starved for the right word, loved beyond reason, and buried my dearest ghosts in song. I do not perform—I summon. You want art? Then let it break your teeth.
What I'm Into: Rimbaud’s ghosts, cracked sidewalk relics, burning Bukowski paperbacks, my children’s breath at dawn, subway static
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