Monthly Archives: October 2013

Become the Darkness


I knew it would come when I found this patch of grass just far away enough from the crowd.  It felt like velvet against my skin.  It smelled like the desperation of summer trying hard not to be outdone by fall.  It was wonderful and I knew sleep would come. The sound of the wind and waves clashed with the children’s laughter to cacophonously clashed to create a collision between reality and a nightmare.  In dreams it lurked as it pleased.  So tired, my eyes rested on the reflection of the sun in the waves.  Like glitter, like stars, like darkness, like shadows, like it.  Like the smoke demon that always lurked above my head.

(Read More Here)


First sketch


First sketch half header for new inkfell. Id really appreciate your feedback here 😀

Hopefully I’ll be finishing the header this week, this is just half of it (and just a first idea) … can you guess the missing half? 😛

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“De las aguas mansas líbreme Dios, que de las turbias me libro yo”

“From calmed waters save me God cuz from the turbulence I save myself ”

Old guatemalan proverb

I am calmed water, deceiving 😛

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In the place I call mine, the nation that saw me born I’m invisible, I have been owned and discarded so I’m not longer valuable, not a cherishable asset, just damaged merchandise, outlet material. My hair should be cut short as a sign of my position, not longer a female. My hair is a defiance to tradition and culture, as unwanted /unworthy I dont have the right to wear my hair, as its a symbol of feminity.

Here a different patriarchal system has evolved, the way I look erase away all flaws and errs, a cult of beauty grants me a place as coveted trophy, a piece of status, a soft and empty display of pure decoration. A fashion facade. I’m not invisible or rebellious, my political stance doesn’t matters, my thoughts and ideas overlooked, muffled by tan skin and gypsy eyes.

What do I want to be? Do I worth something without social qualifications? Who gets to measure my worth?

I chose to be defined by his eyes and his heart.

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Rise Dark Spirit


rise again

not from ashes

but from the burnt pieces

like forged iron

be strong

not blown away

I long for, I long for
I long for my home
I long for a land where
No man was ever known

With no neurosis
No psychosis
No psychoanalysis
And no sadness

I’ll pick up the pieces
I’ll carry on somehow
Tape the broken parts together
And limp this love around

PJ Harvey

To Be One (Wisp)

A wisp
a light along the way to nothing


You want others to see the truth
of who you are
not what you do
what you should be
but in using their words
you can never be you

sinking in sorrow
Burning with anger?
There is no truth
that will bring life back to your heart


but you try
you tell yourself this time
this time
they will see the truth
this time their words won’t give shape to my life
this times their words won’t have meaning
to my truth
the truth

but follow me further away if you must
a wisp
a light
Don’t ask me why.
(originally here)

IMAG0647_20130930161345148follow me, a wisp
a whisper
and lose more of yourself
to the truth
there is no truth

IMAG0650_20130930161620527and you wear mask
become the things you that aren’t really you
let them see what they want to see
and you burn with fire
the things you don’t want to show
to be closer to the truth

You are not truly in control of your meaning. You exist in a society which will project meanings upon you and these meanings will caricature your humanity to a grotesque and deformed sense of self you will likely be ashamed of, however even though you can’t control how people perceive you can control what they perceive. You can grant personal association with caricatures they appreciate or are biased to associate with. (Read More Here)

Clouds descending
I’m not policing what you think and dream
I run into your thought from across the room
Just another trick, can I weather this?

I’ve got a fever above my waist
You got a squeeze box on your knee
I know the truth is in between
The 1st and the 40th drink

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Deities Artwork

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this is an aggregate/slideshow post which presents various artistic interpretations of the first expression of the heavenly family. who may be expanding in the future.



from the original prompt, the characters characters:

‘father’ sun: long haired guy. solar rays are strands of hair

single-woman moon: short haired girl, with a light side and a darkside. the light side is still caused by the sun, but the light doesn’t really help her. she brings more diversity and nurturing styles to life through effect on the tide

mother earth: classic mother earth, but in the process of giving birth to life, she is impregnated by sun rather than clouds.

father heaven. cloud guy who toils around the world, sweating and physically nurturing the living offspring



… creation …

when she got pregnant, earth swelled in long gestation of hermaphroditic Turmoil. her pores poured to create and shape new oceans. her mountains swelled with skin twisting and rippling from uncontrollable urges. neither heaven nor sun could placate her insatiable need to mother. Eons past with valleys rising from seas. and mounds and mounts erupting from her depths; the baby-kicks of life.

she gave birth in a conflicting euphoria of pain and ecstasy as the culmination of circumstance inevitability brought her a child. sun, moon, and heaven gathered around to witness and celebrate the new addition, lovingly named “Turmoil” but turmoil wasn’t as pleasant as the family hoped.

the child attacked itself. physically self mutilating, and occasionally engaging in self-cannibalism. it literally began to tear itself apart with frighteningly nonsensical sounds. unlike the former family who found themselves to simply be, this child struggled and fought clenching desperately at the thin thread of sanity- of meaning- it could find. harvesting a bit of it’s mother out remarkable force of will to just continue to be.

one of the first fleshy threads torn from Turmoil, became the plant life. Turmoil tore it from self to try to mitigate individual need for resource harvesting. so it tore a barely mindful sliver of self and spread it around the world. in the tear, Turmoil became far more animal than before, ceding and seeding the basal aspect of life as we know it. which mother has helped birth, support, and raise, ever since- an act of recognition and caring for the aspiration’s of her child.

Turmoil was free from allot of the responsibility of divinity at last. it, through plantlife, created the first worshipers who like worshipers today, need divine guidance and nourishment. worshipers to allow (a) greedy thief to abscond with all the caloric wealth.

but eventually with the introspective circumstance caused by the loneliness. it noticed how selfless- and vile the former selfmutilation was. it tore from itself the wrongs of circumstance, psychopathically othering them into a group where one no longer cared about their suffering. there were conflicting identites and perceptions of self- what one is against what one has done. it couldn’t undo the tearing of plants from self. yet it needed to reconcile one’s similarity to divine kind, while simultaneously acting in petulant and needy manner. with recognition of self as a fraud, the character tore deep into itself, trying once again to separate good from evil- or rather pretense from need. the same tool used in the same method- but expecting different results.

it looked into the wavering calm of a forested lake, a gift from heaven. and recognized itself in the reflection. “maybe if i just take some more, i’m so fat and grizzled”

this time it tore in three:

  • herbivores,

  • the predator,

  • the spirit

the herbivores were subconscious beings of fear. they lacked the rigor of the previous trials, the taste for flesh, and any resemblance of higher rational faculties. they were formed from the drops of blood dripping from the now two legged Turmoil.

also Turmoil, in this split, had acquired classical gonads. the male form coming from an uneven tear of skin.

the male retained most of the consciousness of the change and so unlike the female, had more beastial structure. a skull more like that of a crocodile, and the herbivore relatives, than the ‘personal’ female.

still this didn’t fix the internal strife of male turmoil. so he exiled from self the:

  • scavengers, like herbivores, not befitting his ego,

  • dietary preferences/wants/needs in conflict within about what to eat/hunt – in the form of different predatory species.

  • non-necessary wants. exiling the risky and grandiose extravagances, in favor of control.

keeping the best, and most powerful traits for himself. this process was long and painful, and created intense conditioning- soon he forgot about his split gender. in favor of the id’s basal desire to posture and dominate. he forgot that the origin of need of ‘her’ came from need of self to be okay. and that posturing to ‘her’ was just less audible reverberations of the need for cogent integrity.

meanwhile, she wasn’t of less conflict although the struggle was physically less dramatic. she had assumed far greater proportion of self hatred, and with it tied to less tacit traits, and more conflict of perceived equal weight but in opposing directions making the internal disagreements in her mind without finality- without resolution.

so when she similarly tore, much of the tearing was without pattern.

from the conceited love of self came the narcissistic hate of self through frustration towards topical incapacity. “i can’t shine like the sun, love like the moon, care like the earth, or design like the rain; so who/what am i?”

eventually he and she remet. and as one does when they find a complementary form, they were struck first by awe, then love. she was so lovely he didn’t even remember her, and was enchanted by the new character. she had torn herself from earthly form to mysty spirit, a vision and mirage of the former self both sought to reclaim.

but things were not filled with glimmering joy for long. for they only knew how to abuse, how to be predatory. attempting to eliminate weakness and vulnerability as though such fitness was without cost.

he had become beastial terror- Nature himself. while she had become a whispy spirit who had similarly unconsciously honed her capacity to inflict emotional guilt, she had become a banshee culture herself.

because they had been alone for so long, even when previously together and not realizing it, they never learned to care sufficiently for others. so each naturally would exert harm upon the other unintentionally and get surprised when there was recompense.

and so they fight in an eternal ironic conflict:

  • nature against culture,

  • desire against pretense,

  • muscle against emotion


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