A drawing I did of Leviathan.
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A drawing I did of Leviathan.
Pen/Ink sketch with photoshop. A sketch of the daemon Flereus, in the feminine.
A photomanipulation artwork I did.
Lydia
Lydia, you prey on vulnerable women.
You say you want 'a harem of 'bitches'.
You drug and groom a teenage girl into depraved sex acts.
Dear Lydia, so much entitlement, pride- no honour no shame. Willfully blind, in your endlessly depraved mind.
Won't wake up from your make-believe Hollywood dream,
but your dream is my nightmare.
Oh Lydia, dear Lydia, keep lying to yourself and everyone else, pride yourself on what you do.
Preach fake morality whilst the rest of us suffer... the women you tormented, who know the truth about you.
Oh Lydia dear Lydia, submit to your master, twice your age,
He picked you up when you were just 16, He feeds you the drugs -the ones you use to cope, cus deep down you know, for you there is no hope.
He buys you designer clothes- to show off his possession with pride.
It's all just financial compensation, whilst on other women you take out your frustrations.
Lydia, you put all the handmaidens to shame.
But God forbid thinking you’re the one to blame. Psychopathic sadist to the core, tormentor of women. You get angry when they call you a whore.
Oh Lydia, dear Lydia, in the end you realize how much you fucked up, You won't raise your self esteem no matter how many dicks you suck.
We know before you break, you'll bend then when the time comes, it will be your very end.
Oh Lydia, dear Lydia it won't last forever-you know it Your days are numbered. As your 'beauty' fades, My tolerance for your stupidity degrades.
Lydia... I know what you do... I know what you feel as you snuggle your teddybear naked in the night, covered in your blanket real tight, Watching cartoons, tripping on LSD Regress to escape your fucked up reality...
See I know the truth- the truth about you. You love women but you hate them too. You lust for them but you hurt them, and you hurt them because you lie to yourself...
Dear Lydia, stop the fucking torture, admit you're gay Stop lying to yourself every fucking day.
Lydia, you haunt me in my nightmares, a torturer who is somehow in pain. When I wake up, for you I feel contempt and disdain. It doesn't justify your cruelty, You had a choice, you had a chance: you threw it all away in vain, You know it, and You'll never stand in my way again.
Architectural inspiration
Jean Gaumy - El Salvador. Panchimalco. 1985
Incubus
And so you call me, You want to take me to our place... A place where once, for you my heart would race. You speak to me, you call my name. You want me to play your little game. 'Come to me, Eve, Come to me. Come to me I'll set you free.' I'll bring back to life, your sexual dreams.
Piss on me, Spit on me, Give in to your hate, Eve, come to me...
'Name your price'. 'Sounds too good to be true, Knowing you, I'll just end up screwed. I know damn well, I get nothing for free. Leave me alone, just let me be.
'Humiliate me, degrade me please. You know you want to give me release. Let's burn the bridges, I beg you please. Put down the knife, and I'll stop being a tease.'
I'll free you from your penitentiary. I know you're in prison, and things for you are scary.
'Don't flatter yourself, spare me the bullshit please.' I know you too well, you're a human disease. Also, Fuck all your shit about sexual release. You know well, it's not you I want to appease.
I'm sick to death of your fucking story. I'd rather keep living in purgatory.
Try all you want to fuck with my head. Give it up, you can't do shit, when I'm already dead.
The truth is, you're scared, Of the touch of death. You dive into the water, holding your breath. They'll eat you alive, they will tear out your eyes. We're all too hungry, for your demise.
I know where you put your cock, you fucking freak. The thought of it hard, makes me feel so bleak. The flashbacks of your blue balls getting sucked. Makes me never, ever want to fuck.
All along, You were the penintentiary. I'd still rather live in... my purgatory.
And that's when the mask came off, his eyed deep red. That's when I knew, that I have no regrets.
'I get the message, oh 'Dear' Eve. Now I see just how it's going to be.
'Do you really think that you can challenge me?' I said: 'You revel in filth, you hate Purity.'
'What are you talking about? Have you gone insane? I remember- you used to be so tame. Submissive and weak, suicidal, in pain.' I said 'the touch of death, was my gain.'
George Kanis, Untitled, 2018.
Deific Mask
Duality/Eggregore
Eggregore
Depersonalization