book of the broken

I found my old ward 2020 time sketchbook. ripped in half since I threw the best half in the bin.

Oh, this madness in my head. To be tortured by something I don’t understand. Something that tells me I am a part of it, that I am fairy king, Griffith who has traversed deep into unknown and deserved to be king. What else. What else is in store for me.

We the broken, are unable yttpotregljlkgnkdhkjethruitphighkfhfkfdhglkjghkjtgirjhgkjhtgil4uy6tilhdjfghcm,ngkjfdghkdfjlthiylruhy6riu6. My head is doing itself in. I have trasnsncnendns sdns sback cfrroms dbeyodns the abysss and keep goiing deeper adeoeperpdeeprperr. hot ehastflushesth my bodey in the very likeness of a roasted crab.

psychosis maeks u danse danss

So i made this embarassing video this morning trying to express god damn shit piddly nothing.

Categorized as Writing

By vela

Just your typical temperamental yet passionate redheaded. Experienced in insanity, art, writing and life.

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