These foul thoughts provoke me. Taint my mind. Swirl around as the wind blows stronger, waiting for the right moment to ignite and form a raging tornado to wreck havoc. In what right mind do I have to plan such gruesome and evil things. To then plant them in others, nurturing my creations. Only to stand back and watch them do my dirty work. Praising them with new and imaginative devil like notions. They are my masterpieces. I am the artist. The one who for a long time only dreamt of such magnificently bloody works. Only now to make those dreams a reality, turning them into action. Other works of art: watching the glow and warmth of flesh slowly diminish and drain, dying out to leave nothing more than a cold, blue and lifeless corpse. A true grin lighting up my face as my children so proudly please me with the view and enjoyment of being able to see the light in intelligent eyes slowly flicker out, leaving nothing more than a cold, dull stare.
My art.
My children.
My machines.
My dreams.
I can live in satisfaction, knowing the foul thoughts that used to raise the hairs on my arms and neck and twist my stomach in a knot, now bring me a warm fuzzy feeling of enjoyment, completion and wonderment.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
Forever Free
Короткі історіїThe shadows never fade, always lurking in the depths. Surrounding, closing in. Suffocating from the inside out. Releasing the voices cackling underneath. Trapped in utter darkness no light can penetrate. It's always eerily quiet. Constantly...
