To whom i write?

To whom it may concern  
 
   
   
after long years writing lyrics for my much adored- the inquisitor(s) of my existence,  
now  i try to write for  imaginary stranger,    
 the victim of shipwreck of unearthy love,  
for the victim  of shipwreck of all creative bodies of work  
for the victim of shipwreck of magic amiticia  
for the victim of shipwreck of indigeneous life leading  
for the victim of sexism, who wasnt left to live their androgynous vision    
for the woman in suburb, which 'museum'  is graffiti landscape  
for the bourgeoius woman suffocating in her ennui  
for homeless girl, numb of heroin withdrawing to remember her  'civil' days and think on her  'hooman' surrounding    
for the aristocrat of spirit, 'devoured' just for breakfast by plebeian pricks  
for melancholic poet who didnt learn ever to behave 'adequate'  
and ask whether this word spells may be as 'oddequate?  
For those segregated, incarncenated in loony bin and thrown away from life  
for those who wasted their youth to fight mischiveous ragtag of oppressors,  
be it police, employer, college, teachers, parents or diverse kind of fascos  
i write for those lost dreamers who are not compliant  to society mindsets  
for the lover who urges love to it's limits and knows only existence of being permanent broken-hearted and done with life in every métier  
   
i write for the humilitated, screwed and raped by the psychosis which society designed for them  
i write for those unknown and unwanted madmen, who like Gerard de Nerval, Antonin Artaud and Camille Claudel, who were murdered in lunatic asylums, for havent fit to official artscenes,  and whose any breath is tall and nerveous outbreak  of purification of ideal,    
i write for a little darling who cannot fight with her/his  fragile lyrics against cynic of pornografic 'conceptualist' fellows with their wretched pseudo-sarcasm in word and pictures..  
i write  for imaginare stranger who is alone and cold, done with her/his petty bourgeios family and totured by friends for not correspond to all the roles, they expected of her/him.  
i write for deviant artist, provocateur, sometimes even without any  'finished works', who conveys his opinions out loud, for what  getting uncountable number of order of staying away from a house on different bars, videoteks, literature houses or art-spaces  
and  No, i surely dont write for those 'phD' theoretists who living in their undangerous tidy lifes, snobing around their 'highbrow' tongues, yet writing about works of Michel Foucault and Raoul Vaneigem or Girgio Agamben, being as far from reality of these issues like astronom is far from stars which he observes.    
 neither i write for those  'beautiful artists' whose art mainly consists from blessing  their irresistable ass and while they being far apart of underground as hell still blabbering  of 'avantgarde', of fighting for individual freedom and what most crooked, of  strategies of resistance.  
Neither i write for idle 'arts-lovers' who hunt merely amusement and fancy for their 'aesthetic senses'.  
   
within one and half decade of practicing sound installations writing and moving pictures  i became widely unwanted commissar,zozo le skizo and forced iconoclast, fed up by all colors of phonies and fucked to the best.  
   
thatswhy may be  
 i write above all for myself, to recognise i survive and still somehow resist.