DayDreamer759

I Like To Play With Skin: Breathe - My dear friends and watch, As the feeling of life itself Crumbles beneath each ounce of pain. Needles slowly piercing into the body, Paralyzing nerves and expressions. A mask of pure horror; living terror, Kept alive on the barest limit of the border. Such tempting features, Leave me eager to slip a knife beneath flesh. Ripping soft layers of epidermal mache, Tanned and dried, woven slowly into a loving mask. And with my latest acquisition complete, Only twenty spaces remain... -Chen Yuan Wen, 28th April 2013

The Real Writers: There are those who sit with their laptops and tablets, Clothed in a scarf and an artistic hat of some sort. They ponder; leaving a stack of books beside them, Sipping their decaf as though they are literature personified. Posers... What works do they prepare, other than blatant copies, Perhaps a half-baked romance designed to woo a lady. So convinced are they, of their own aptitude; They are blinded by the beams of their burgeoning ego. For the writer is not the man who is tapping away at keys, He is not the man fervently reading with lensless glasses. He is not the hipster debating ancient literature. For he is a monst