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This is one of my most listened to albums by Pink Floyd.
It helps me sleep, (which is a miracle for an insomniac), It calms me down, helps me focus and keeps me sane. I owe so much to these guys. If you haven’t heard this, then you’ve been missing out big time.

This band has been influencing my drawing for a while now. I first heard them while playing a PS2 game called Primal who they did the entire soundtrack for. This song is the opening menu for the game, So i’ve heard this about a bazillion times. Needless to say I was always the odd kid out and listening to underground industrial like this back when i was 8 didn’t help me fit in very well.
My mother and i blast their best of in the car, and they’ve always given me some great visual inspiration to work with. So this is basically one of the soundtracks of my life. I hope you like it.

This photographer Liliana Sanches, otherwise known by her Deviant art name Princess of Shadows, is one of my favourite photographers of all time.
Her wok has a certain darkness to it that draws me in and reminds me very much of Victoria Frances paintings. I’ve been following her work since I was about 13 and it’s influenced me quite a lot, from the way I draw, to the way I dress. If you want to see some more of her works check out her deviant art page here. > princess-of-shadows.deviantart.com

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A wolf skull done in pen.

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My theme for painting is fear. This little blonde girl haunts my nightmares and has been in many of my paintings. She’s doll like and cold as ice.
The centipede is my least favourite arthropod. Spiders I can handle, but I can’t even think about centipedes without cringing.
P.S I’m uncomfortable around dolls too. They creep me out.

As she sat in the car she stared out of the window, not taking in the scenery
Nothing gave her joy
Not the birds soaring freely, nor the way the wind touched the trees
She felt as if all the happiness and colour had drained from every pore in her grey skin
Her arms were numb, her lips cracked from not speaking
She can’t remember the last time she ate
Or slept
Or how many pills shes had
She just wants to feel something again
Anything
Pain seems more likely than happiness
Or hope
Or belonging
Or love
But she’s just not there
Hazel eyes stare but do not see
She’s uncomfortably numb

She’s not a girl who misses much…
She’s well aquainted with the touch of a velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane
Man in the crowd
With the multicoloured mirrors
On his hobnail boots
Lying with his eyes
While his hands are busy
Working overtime

Happiness is a warm gun

a warm gun by enderthethird

Wind whips through her long hair
Alone on the rocky shore she watches the sun rise
Her world is made of greys and blacks, her skin translucent white
Purple seeps along the water’s horizon
And crawls up to her naked feet being lapped at by the freezing water
The purple changes to red then orange, and the clouds embrace their new colours of the morning
She breathes in deeply, the cold searing her lungs
Her eyes close as the first rays of sun reach her pale cheeks
She stands, her arms outreached reveling in the light
Warmth and hope swirl deep within her broken heart

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