Latest Posts by my-ugly-organs - Page 7

I often do Russian horror illustrations, often working with body horror, insects and mushrooms

sea, swallow me

Vivisepulture - [6/23/23]

None of this is easy. I can’t stay, yet I can’t walk away. Walking away would crush me, as if I was being buried alive. The dirt upon me, heavy and slowing down my every attempt at escape. The more I struggle the more it piles.

I cough, more, and more, and more. The ground you walk on itself is in my lungs. I keep thinking, “I’m going to die,” but I don’t. I am suffocating but the same force killing me is keeping me alive, prolonging the anxiety and the hurt. And the coughing.

All I’ve inhaled is the dirt but what comes out is smoke. For what feels like an eternity I continue to go through the achingly long process of dying without death, and I come to the conclusion that maybe exhaling is always easier than inhaling.

The pain is stabbing and burning and aching. I feel my body giving up. I feel my brain giving up. I have given up. I’m tired of fighting. Does giving up help? No. Does the suffering stop? No. But now all I can do is lay here. I’m still here yet the world continues to spin without me. I am completely alone, no one knowing of my predicament. Life goes on without me.

aneur. gouache watercolor

Franz Kafka, from Letters to Felice

venting

up, up, get up, get moving, we have no time for this.

What I wouldn't give to be coated in dermestid beetles

rotting in my childhood bedroom

[I.D: A digital illustration depicting a person laying on their back, with their legs up on a bed. Their face is completely obscured except for the right eye, which has a tired expression. On both their arms, and on part of their stomach, grow mushrooms of various kinds. There's also moss, small plants, and even a few flowers, covering most of their skin. They are covered in dirt and mold, that also extends to other parts of the room. To the left of the image is a big bear plush, sitting on its hind legs; it has a sewn on patch and it's slashed open across the stomach. The person's hand closer to it is holding a bit of the stuffing. On its feet lay other toys. The room has a heart decal that goes around the top of the wall, and it has one window over the bed, with curtains. The whole illustration has very dark colors, mostly blue and grey except for the moss, mold, mushrooms, and dirt. End I.D]

4x4 with the rotting corpse (IRNHYM)

Erotic fantasy: My meds work for once in my fucking life. I am able to perform basic tasks and not being disabled by my illness.

Robert Bly, "Depression," from A Mind Apart: Poems of Melancholy, Madness, and Addiction

I had to endure everything alone so I’m sorry that I don’t know how to ask for help or even accept it

I've been seeing that quote go around and while making this I think I managed to track it back to "An Oresteia" by Anne Carson

i like to think you are there, there

where I post from

Something died in my yard

I can't tell you how bad it gets

This self sabotage isn't gonna get me where I want to be

Fading