I Fucking hate you. I really do. Because I can’t tell you what goes on in my head. I can’t. If I told you that I can picture myself painting the most beautiful mural I’ve ever seen as I splatter someone’s brain across a wall, youd never speak to me again. Youd never see me the same. If I told you that I love you in the same breath, you would fucking hate me. But it’s only natural to hate a sociopath. Right? Right. Its fine though. I didn’t ask you to give a fuck. Didn’t ask you to do anything. Fuck this.
Not that it matters. I’m just a punching bag. Here to take the blows. And that’s fine. That’s what I’ve made myself. That’s what I wanted. But I’m getting tired. I need a break. But I’ll come back. I’ll come back and be your little hate fuck right after I’m done washing their blood off of my face and hands. Sweet dreams, babe. May you find someone stable.
2 comments
How did I miss this one?? I hope you’re ok Sams. Fury is like electricity: such a powerful force, but it might just burn you to cinders if you’re not careful.
Great picture. It’s actually inspiring me to try a little project of my own, seeing how beautifully you express yourself through images.
I would pay to see a mural in human brains. If you like Bowie you oughta check out his CD called Outside. You need the actual cd because it comes with a storybook about an “art murder detective” who investigates various body parts slung on canvasses and has to determine if it’s actual art (justifiable) or just a perverted murder case (not justifiable). Great album. Somehow it seems right up your alley.
I’ve never really given him a chance. I’ll definitely check it out. Sounds interesting. 🙂 thanks.