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A blogpost about what I do to not be creating art, and how to stay unhappy.
“I remember the blood on the walls. The painting on the wall, it was her, the maiden with the black dress. It was her gaze, her black eyes that looked at me. The red was everywhere. I can’t forget it. I was laying on the floor, anxious and paranoid. And then, I saw hell on…
My time is neutral It stopped in one scene That’s why I’m immortal No more reason to bleed One photograph tells my past That I once lived with a smile With a dream, without evil Without negative desires Even though my body is aging Its my mind that doesn’t grow I make the pain painless…
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