Sometimes you just feel like painting how you feel. Digital art by Nikoletta Winters February 25th, 2018. Larger view HERE.



Behind Invisible Weapons

Close your eyes. And repeat after me…

Belief is strange. It has a magical quality that can completely transform reality if you buy into it. It’s so strange that if we’re told something enough times we might grow to adopt it as “Truth.” Even if that “Truth” is actually an invisible weapon disguised to hurt you.

Life inherently has no meaning. Any meaning that we attach to life begins first as a thing created by the mind. Therefore, any meaning that we ascribe to the world in front of us is first derived from the one we cannot see.

When we are young, we live like immortals. Bathing in the ignorance of youth. Waiting for time to never end, we are bewildered by the possibilities that the tomorrow might bring.

What feels good? Everything that doesn’t hurt. Until everything that is good hurts you.

In the end, everyone leaves. This is reality. Believe in free will or do not. Are you awaited in Hell? Or will you rot away below the earth without a care? Are you destined for greatness? Or do you carve your own path? In the end, everyone leaves. This is reality.

Behind Invisible Weapons

Born on top of the giant wave

Seventy miles,

And seventy more!

I fight the coast with my feet

Where I stand to cease

Kissing the wind with my face.

The daystar bruises,

The sea it sprawls

With every stroke–leverage.

With every word a fight.

Hookers are delightful in red,

A crown of flowers

The shallow stage

And a boy who calls himself Holofernes.

I don’t care much that it smells of death

Hold the corpse up!

The deathier the better!

For ideals–

My life–worth chasing!

This feast, no Rome, no God!

Pardon me like John the Baptist

A wartorn Goliath melting in the sand.


Born on top of the giant wave

The Day I Left


It has been so long…

In this bed of rust I have lain.

No flowers to wreathe my beauty–

I drowned in tears and barb-wire dreams.


How the snow melting sands–scorch my heart.

Melt my eyes.

Blast my skin.

Is that the Sun I hear? So far away!

I love when the vultures circle–all at once.

My seven mouths–how they sweat!

O so delicious! Feathers and all.

The Day I Left

Charlotte Lips and the Smell of Mutation

Life is best when it’s ever-changing. Mutation smells wonderful. It makes me misty all over with the eyes of transformation. Charlotte lips. Bring out the self I never knew. She, the living energy that gives me a sense of “selfness” lies slightly below the heart. A cloud of darkness–she dictates my everything.

He is Leviathan. He is Set. She is Lilith. Babalon.

tumblr_njgjhxM9gA1unsh07o1_r3_540This week had regularity. It had the irregularity of chartreuse. Smiles. Emotions. Admiration and courage.

I can never bear children. Nor would I want to. I value my free time far too much. The last three weeks have awakened feelings inside of me I have never knew. It’s hard to resist smiling when a little one regards you with absolute joy. I’m learning to remember what it was like to see the appeal in otherworldly beauty. Am I exotic? Your children follow me with their eyes so you don’t have to.

Before, I was angry, and the questions never ceased. Did I ever belong? Darkness. Without abandon I ran into it. Cover every mirror. A thirty year nightmare. Awaken. Dirt drowns, lost within itself to funeral libations.

I remember when I was little. Beauty, so easily defined.

Reds–the framework. Black–the heart. Charlotte–the lips. Mutation–the self.

Charlotte Lips and the Smell of Mutation

Rivals of the Self

Beautiful within the self.
Roses where thorns grow.

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Rivals of the Self