Line art, fine art, black arts, permanent marks,
All bits, like all points, on all prior parts.
Those scars, scrapes and all fusion of shapes,
New lines etched on what deteriorates.
In ink, a thirst or reflection fastened,
Imagery indelibly imagined.
Raw, renewed or repeated catharsis,
That bit of buzz and heart unharnesses.
The artist said there was only one rule.
