Demonic Experiments: Horrific Faces Feast

We calculate how much the stones we will throw before yesterday and after tomorrow can make our hands sweat. We question where and how long things that have not yet lived can survive. Despite immersing ourselves in the waters of such exhaustion, we are still like a high-energy dance floor. There are dozens of occasions where we can let them dance on us, dozens of people we can allow to step on our floor with their heels or flat rubber soles. We do not have the usual slippery floor, but a concrete floor filled with stones. We don't have to try to look tough all the time, so we can breathe easily without pulling our chest up once in a while. With our itchy but hollow eyes, we can turn oxygen into a gray gaze in a sense.

We were kicked, beaten, punched in our faces and in our skulls. The effect of the explosion had just left its place to the ringing, and then we were exposed to sharp and piercing tools. The pain of something hot, the anger hidden behind black curtains, was being taken out of us. As we were crushed, we were crushed, as we softened, we became softer. We could easily go down the unclogged holes of a grotto, into the sewer, where it was unclear where it ended. The stink of hatred and cursing affixed to us could be combined with the odors of things no worse below. Wherever our journey on the black water ended, we could sail in peace without closing the holes in our faces. As in that horror movie classic, there was something surreal that beckoned us down, we could have shined brighter in the sunlight if our yellow raincoat wasn't so dark.

April, 2023 paper collage // by Demon Ego