addiction by kracker
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Description
Cutting my wrists, and bleeding my self like a fucking pig.
Shooting myself in the head, like i'm some kind of sick animal.
Throwing my body off a building, because i'm fucking retard.
I'm not these things, why do I feel them.
Comments (14)
eartho
you feel them because there is no hope.
All that should be, never will be.
our heaven turns to hell.
we witness a disintigration of our souls.
really like the detail in lip and cheekbone, btw. Just Ps?
lunetta
Good Pik.
bevchiron
A moving depiction of emotional meltdown.
gunsan
I can really feel with you, because I have felt the same, and you have made an intense and moving image of it, that touches deep layers within. Besides that I admire the technique you use.
gallimel
Intense, lost and damned. With that deep sad feeling which makes it all so "big". Heartshaking, wonderful, makes me feel sorry for you for you had to pass such a moment of crack inside...
Digital-Witch
Intense and moving..i feel all your emotions in this image..like being lost in the depths of a personal emotional hell fine portrayal of one of the damned...
psy
i heard suicide is painless
Antoonio
Cut my wings so I can fly.
...beautiful piece Pres. Always nice to see works from you.
akrilico
Maybe 'cause Good is Evil and viceversa. Happy 2 c u here sometimes
mutefivefifty
do you know me, i'm the blood one the floor.
do you know me, i'm the slit in your wrist.
do you know me, i'm the knife in your hands.
do you know me, i'm the bullet in your brian.
do you know me, i'm a gun just fired.
do you know me, i'm dieing with every breath you breath.
do you know me?
you don't know me.
you just know of me.
good thing for you, cuase i'm worse than the life you live.
Ballad of the reaper
written by me, inspired by you.
Your friend, believe it or not. I'm here for you, weather you really need it, or if you just wanna talk design or society.
Patrick
SonOfGodzilla
are you being very very ironic or are you 12 years old?
tuerda
Bloodlust and impressionism blend into a messy flow of thoughts making me cry: "Come to me, I need you now". I don't know to whom or to what I speak, and sometimes I wonder if it might be my killer. Sometimes the only way to say anything is with poetry, or a prosaic hybrid . . . ???
Synapse
A kind of return to some of your postings from nearly a year ago, its nebulosity sums up: these feelings don't really have names, just as abstract as the unanswerable questions you ponder over and over until you think yourself in knots. It's just self-perpetuating negativity, pure and simple, and once it has you it takes all your strength to dig yourself out of the rut - I know, I'm battling with it as I write this. At such times it is so difficult to feel positive about anything; just thinking can feel exhausting.
FantasioX
aaah, i know...i had the same problems too with my scanner...p.s.pretty damn hatework,but sometimes the best therapy...:-)