— R. D. FAWCETT

I like to suffer, and take pictures.

instagram.

enter the void . . .
enter the void . . .
Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo
It continues without respect given to your wishes.
Blackened filth washed away. What's left behind is the darkened state to which it has made our skin. Nothing can be done to remove this malady. No remedy for your sacrilege. Punishment and woe await your flowering.
I am obsessed with the idea of "Self-actualization," more importantly the impossibility of it. (Fictitious, Fantasy, and all this Ganderously Slanderous)
Time is all the same, it's the world that's changing.
Naught but an icy corpse...
It's all gone. Fuck, I don't care.
Here we are, back here again. It feels familiar, doesn't it?
How could I be this naïve?
Downright, thoroughgoing, and shere mælstrom.
Let me simply unorganize things for minor convenience.
Broken cogs in a systematic, withering machine fit for pieces like us.