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| I've decided to start using this site again as a place to post my artworks.
However I'm still working on more pieces of manga (comic in japanese). Also, I'm trying to save enough money for a scanner.
I think in the next few weeks or so I will use my friend's scanner to post some of my drawings for a start.
So if you like any of them and want to see my manga in the future, PLEASE sponsor me.
Amount can be just a few kuai! They can help me buy tools like manga pager, drawing pencil, digital background tones, etc.
Your support will mean a lot to me.
Thank you!!!!!!!!
p.s. I will soon be handing out my short manga around the school. | | |
| Ripping, renting,
Tearing at space,
Corrupting the moment,
Distorting the place.
Bubbling, seething,
Nest of emotions,
Struggling for sense,
Of conflicting notions.
Fear and guilt,
Hatred and blame,
And yet I sit passive,
Calm just the same.
Casually, calmly,
Not even glum,
I've exhausted all senses,
I survive now in numb.
| | |
| Wave of MutilationI press my forehead on the window
And through it watch children
Playing on the lawn
Desolation pulses through my veins
And my futile fingers reach out for guidance
I savor the blade, sinking deeper than blue
I can taste tranquility for a wavering instance
The anger flows down my arm as the bitter black blood
Burns off my fingertips
Death swims before me in hazy illusion
Images of eternity skip shamelessly through my mind
Pain surrounds, I am resolved to be - still
I run my hand on the tear stained window
And distorted through it
Watch children playing on the lawn. | | |
| For everything there must come a last.
A last minute, a last hour, a last month, day, or year.
A last drink, a last coke, a last tequila, scotch, or beer.
A last love, a last heart, a last kiss, hug, or touch...
Or even the last word written on a page.
But the worst last thing is your last breath
Because what is to follow will surely be your death.
I'm waiting for it all to end | | |
| Was I bewitched so by the thin red line
To notice not that time released its hold
And let pale Iris snip the silver twine
To steal sweet youth before it turned to gold.
Existence now is not what I was told;
No seraphim and harps to grace my ear,
Just silence, painful silence, and the cold
Discomfort of my masochistic fear,
So icy cold, yet somehow seems to sear
My soul until the ache's too much to bare,
As mortal life mirages now appear:
Intangible are they; away they tear.
Mistake, it was; the curtain fell too soon
When razor's edge did charm me like the moon.
like i care how its gonna turn out
like i care wuts gonna happen next
i am just gonna close my eyes and go striaght ahead
u guys with me? | | |
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