You Are A Fool To Believe My Writing Can Stomped Down Into The Dirt. Meter Flows Through My Veins Like

You are a fool to believe my writing can stomped down into the dirt. Meter flows through my veins like a winding river, twisted and churning and winding. Text may be ripped from the world but it’s imprint, however small, shall prove your ruin. I pity you really, as I am the writers word, and it is mine against yours.

NO COLIN WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT MY OTP IS RUINED

I love horror when it’s beautiful.

When what you look at is horrific and terrifying, but beneath that there is beauty.

I want the cosmic being staring at me so deeply with all of its hundred of thousands of eyes to be ethereal and filled with colors a mind cannot comprehend. For its beauty to be a horror all on its own, one that drives you into an obsessed madness, trying to recreate the beauty you saw that day. But you can never recreate it. You cannot capture this no matter your skill and no matter how hard you try.

I want the mounds of flesh and sinew to be crafted elegantly into a grotesque mosaic which as disgusting and putrid as it is, could be seen as beautiful. Not by all but to a certain kind of eye perhaps it could better than Picasso. They do say beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all.

I want characters who are driven to transform themselves into beings so beautiful they become god-like solely due to the flesh they rended from their bones, replaced with mounds of mud, sculpted into finely crafted art.

I want my horror to be beautiful.

I relate to Baron Marius Von Raum to a concerning degree. Annoying theatre kid who believes in the power of therapy and likes to pretend to be a doctor? I’m sorry I didn’t know you got me on audio, take that down.

Now I just need to learn how to play the violin.

Ok I’m going to do a sequel post for this

Just got the the part where Kayne appears in malevolent and you know what? I get the hype, this guy is great :D