Set at 00:48 on March 08, 2015
| Status: |
Leech (2.51) |
| Rank: |
Member |
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No affiliation. |
| Account Type: |
Regular |
| Gender: |
Unspecified |
| Birthdate: |
Hidden |
| Age: |
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Hello and welcome all,
living and working out of the UK where i hope too bring my own
artwork into the world, apart from being around the world once or twice i always seem to end up back here,
apart from my art work i also work with friend's and other's on there music and film's, also working on my own writing to,
So apart from my music and films i try too get out and about as much as i can, if not to the gym to work out then seeing friends and family, even tho i'm what you would call the black sheep of the family, let's just say i have a dark past and move on,
So i'm into all thing's dark,
cyber goth, steam punk, horror , love my art, and writing,
so many thing's i do love.... full moons and dark woodlands,
to say some, but you have to love it when it rain's
the rain falling in the dead of night help's me drop off too sleep,
I stand before a glass wall; exposed with my clothes stripped down and my naked body covered in cuts and scars. I am a piece of art. I am all that is a piece of art. The touch of the scars sending a cold shutter down my body. As the red oozing paint slowly drains by the second. Never has something so raw and malevolent been the most beautiful and intoxicating feeling anyone could ever want to feel. The voice of a siren luring and sweet like the taste of Godiva’s chocolate exploding in your mouth as if it were the 4th of July. These hands seem to be shaken with alarming terror to have to commit such brutal pain upon the innocence.
Nevertheless, my mind and heart careless than feel what the blade-of the paintbrush-of my love- brings upon me every night and day. I don’t hesitate but allow its evil kiss and touch upon the broken skin.
Feeling the blade craving stories into my skin-tattooing me with new scars and blood. Screaming with sheer pleasure and passion as his lustful lips dig for more. As the scarlet blood oozes out from the wounds and trails down like a river, I see new art. The art that comes to life before the very eyes I see! The flow of the paint dripping from my skin like fallen chilling tears that my eyes no longer fear. Nothing feels so damn beautiful than the rising art of darkness from the gelid grave. Letting every innocence inside me slowly die away and being denounced with this disastrous blade of a paintbrush.
No such thing as pain without a little blood spilling out from my wrist and killing yet another vain. The time had come to end the weak child inside this cold blooded demon. Young and wild, ready to sink her pearly white teeth into a new malevolent darkness to the new era that has become. Staining the walls of her body with art from the blood of her blood. When I look back into the glass wall, there is nothing but blood from my arms to my legs. I am walking on water-only this is no water but the cold water of the gooey scarlet that had once ran through my veins.
The pain is gone but the sting is there. I don’t fret or run. I stand and let it bleed. Looking for the Dark Art that covers my body. That is what I am. I am a piece of art. I am the artwork no one wishes to see.
| Member Since: | Mar 08, 2015 |
| Last Login: | Mar 11, 2015 |
| Times Viewed: | 677 |
| Times Rated: | 42 |
| Rating: | 9.327 |
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