# 7
Legion of creatures without a soul. We are a muffled scream. That grin that is when you freeze a scream. We are the operator. The dry rate. One-two-one-two-one-two-one to two. We
fear. Hatred. Pain. We
control. We
Witkin nightmares, terrors of Ropp. Goya are the reason, the vanity of Gilbert. We are a sculpture of Giger. And we the beginning of terror we can still endure.
0 comments:
Post a Comment