As they exist in their contemporaneous hubris!

 Have what ever reasons you choose.
The reality and depths of the wretched destitution and unwanted misery reside in the fabric of this soulless civic, seeking the solution which their pain has numbed to an anesthetized dystopia avoidance for fear of losing this miserable existence's sensations-the sum total of their cherished being.
 
The sacred vernacular and colloquial that's used more for signifying and social posturing that became a cultural censor and consensus, than a clarifying analysis of 'what is', it is bastardized and prostituted worse than the human representations of those terms.

More insidious is the herd "bravado" that exists in defining what and who is by that vain and feckless 'sacred vernacular and colloquial' that allows shows of social consensus of performance cultural angst for comfort in the absence of engagement in moralistic grand standing in amoralistic circumstances!

As some have asked of my identity...

But first, to answer the comments of my verbalisms. It can be prose, which gives neutered, reductionist facts of instruction-or hopefully-information. Or it can be an abstract art that affects and forces us to no longer be detached, but emotionally engaged.
I see that an "artist" is unconcerned of the value others will place on what's been created. Much as the MGM logo states
, ARS GRATIA ARTIS [art for the sake of art], I attempt to cohere, if not adhere to the spirit of that dictum.

I do it for those souls living in muttering resentment to their secular overlords leverage of economic or emotional power over them. I do it for those inspiring souls, who-for me-were prematurely aborted by their Icarus lifestyles that were a misfit for their time and place. For these and others who aren't allowed or unable to have such a platform to procreate into the moment, I do this.
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Speaking of 'procreation', I will address the defamations about my 'identity'. Unlike those who bind themselves to their provincial place in this time and space, I've come to see myself as an extrapolated, metamorphic reincarnation of the history of my birth date's agelessness heralding of endings/beginning of things. I am the progeny of the eruption of Vesuvius which buried Pompeii, the bringing to end of Rome by the Goths, the brutality done to the Huguenots in France, the winds of Hurricane Andrew upon the shores of southern Florida-the announcement/pronouncement of the change's advent-historically and seasonally. What dominated before was no more. I unconsciously, at first, and now more compulsively consciously now am and have been that irrepressible new moment which is an inherent challenge to those of smug presumption of what is in form and substance. THAT IS WHO I AM, beyond the identifiable an from the anonymous and anomalous.