The Dark Corners of my Twisted Mind

I am Sir Leon Cervantes Xavier, welcome inside my fucked up mind, I am awesome, you are not.

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Resistance is futile, succumb to the will of ObZen

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Welcome, the enterance fee is your soul

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Visit Original Link

Awake...Angels of Sorrow

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Enter the realm of Death

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who's up for a limb removal?

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gaze into my eyes and your soul will be mine

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Im sexy and I know it

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destructive art at its best

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I am cursed...forever

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ill you follow me so that i can follow you your page is fuckin sick!

yes, I am sick, but I follow only the selected few, suit yourself.

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They are out to get you

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The power of darkness, in the palm of my hand

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Impaled, The Grotesque Creation

Twisted realms and skinless beasts, gather around, I am your ancient incarnation. By my rotten bone, I tell you this tale of fate worse than brutal death. Not hundred needles through your visual receptors, not million swallowed little razorblades defecated, not any amount of physical pain inflicted upon your wretched bodies will describe the dark horrors of this forgotten one.

Being born was his biggest mistake, but the circle of unfortunate events started here, he was not born naturally, but ripped out of his carriers womb. Barely made out alive, but one suffering being kept him alive, breathing. So helpless, he couldn't end the miserable "life" he was living. The being, now his mother, father and sister, bled poison, was not able to live on, now the being was cast in the fiery dephts of a volcano. He was once again left alone, breathing the ash and coal-filled air near the volcano, it made wounds on him, eternal wounds, coagulated blood, maggots chewing the half-rotten flesh. He still feels no pain.

How he managed to survive, no-one knows, now he is a young man, a twisted mind, craving for revenge. Revenge for what? Not even he knows. Decorated his house with human skin, making it resemble a womb, maybe he wants to be unborn. Black ash smothered his lungs and his eyes are tainted by blood. With the scarred, dirty hands, he gently cuts through the artery of his throat. He still feels no pain, a tear on his eye tells it. A horde of stray wolves find him by the stench of blood, his soul screams so loud, that it splits the ground in half. Being devoured by these grotesque creatures, now he hopes his soul finally is being released. Fate is not on his side, now as he burns eternally, impaled by spears made from his own bones, he only screams: why! The sins of the grotesque creation was only one pathetic suicide.

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Unleash the demonic hordes

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darkness is beautiful

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beauty is in the eyes, they say

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My trip to the dentist didn't go so well...