I hate people. I several devices within my house that I can use to torture the ones who have hurt me, give them a taste of the venom they produce in the people they fuck with.
I don’t like sex. I spend enough time trying not to touch or be touched. The mere thought of such repugnance. I would have nothing to do with the submission to physical longing. All seek to enslave you and I’ve already got this ravenous beast of plaster to contend with. Flesh does not motivate me. No, mine is a penetration beyond the veil of the flesh.
I am being controlled by a force on the other side of the wall. If I don’t keep “painting” the wall, it goes soft, and something from the other side starts to push through. My curiosity is not so much that I would find out what that thing is. I can feel it in there, smoldering, furious at my disobedience.
I am tall and skinny. My eyes are ridiculously large. I live only with the voices in my head who have manifested themselves in styrofoam doughboys and a big boy, among other things.
All the comic stuff is copyright Jhonen Vasquez and Slave Labor (crazy American spelling) Graphics.
Buy his stuff,
or you will never experience enternal bliss. All the other pictures were stolen off the Mahir Cagri website. If you haven’t heard of him, you are not trendy.