[lolcatsaestheticdump]

[coolthingoftheday]

A morphine vial complete with syringe from the Victorian era.

[eldritchenthusiast]

No answer lies there. It cannot care, especially for what it no longer knows.

[plein-air-on-gorkhon]

image description: pixel art from pathologic 2 in two variations. first: a bull stands in the tall grass of the steppe, harshly illuminated by a roaring pyre, and flanked by two scarecrows receding into sickly green haze. second: the bull is now framed by fantastical, glowing constellations under a foreign night sky

2024 original for comparison

[writheworm]

the toun (2024)

[mariean2inette]

“I have found a light in the darkness” by Julia Soboleva

[hildegardavon]

Michael Triegel, 1968-

Persephone, 2009, mezzotint on laid paper, 29.5x14.5 cm

Private Collection

[maggotmuncher0]

sketch

[natchav]

Tamara Kostianovsky

What is Once was, 2010

Clothing belonging to the artist, meat hooks, chains, steel

61.5 x 23 x 20.5 in

[defaultfelix]

(headache all day today.) More horse art, from 2022.

[bebemoon]

laura benson

[seven-meds]

Meat church

[varanideus]

This place is a message...

[fleshaesthetic]

Candace Couse | Landlocked, 2010

(further reading)

[ptr-sqloint]

"You're all yourselves. I can bind you. Let you come within one another's souls. One-from-many."

[hungwy]

The bull pants in the thick heat of its own blood. It strains against its own largeness. This is no field, there is no grass, no open sky, no cows, no shady tree. In due process the cranium is split from the corpus, and the bull returns to its sky and field.

The headless bull is a monument, an excess. A massive trash-heap of shit. The pile is rummaged through and slowly digested by the infinite number of earthly coprophiles. Hot globs of muscle and skin, gushing blood and seeping tears, all melted by bile into running shit. This hot alchemical slag of the coprophagic digestive tract flows across the lands, distributed across every meridian, from dust to dust. The body is not returned to earth whole but dissolves into the same feces that all become.

But the castrated head seeks another body. It resolves never again to touch the unclean earth. The sacrificial bull head, with horns erect like excited angel wings, its eyes rolled up in pleasure and locked like a hunter to the twinkling stars, its tongue drooping out for a taste of divine wind, is set to final orgasmic blaze over licking flames. Fur, skin, muscle, snot, spit, eyeballs, brains, all rendered dark and sacred cloud: A final little death for the remaining mundanity. A vein to Heaven has opened, and the ashes flow upward into the vaulted cranium of the sky along the pulsing hot wind. In a thousand years another celestial eye will join the countless others of the night.

[charnel-grounds]

Adelaide Hanscom Leeson (1876–1932) - Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, Frontis & Plate XXV, 1905

source