Whenever I speak with you I end up dying more, a little moreHeads up, there is a good amount of gore/body horror/mental health stuff on this blog; I’m sorry I’m not gonna tag it cause if you don’t want that then you don’t want to be here
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its nothing some ibuprofen and a blunt and 5 beers and a head injury and jacking off and killing myself cant fix
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that one vocab test question haunts me so i drew it
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*sighs like an old dog who narrowly dodged euthanasia yet something about its demeanor makes you feel like it knows this fact and something even more obscure makes you feel like it resents this
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Purgatory Canto 12, The Soul of Arachne (1867)
— by Gustave Doré
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The Sacrificial Lamb by Josefa de Óbidos, 1670
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Sneha Solanki ‘The Lovers’
Two networked machines, one infected with a virus, slowly infects the other through the interface of classic romantic poetry.
A breakdown in the relationship was inevitable once the virus had seeped into the memory of one machine and then into the other through a singular network cable affecting the poetic text files. Communication between the two deteriorated, leading to irrational & at times odd behaviour. Each machine reacted with equal confusion and conflict. The interface text became an illegible poetic mutation of itself.
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