unstable artist
states of consciousness
(best viewed on mobile for full image of art)
distance,detachment-reattachment,longing,the struggle of a cup that never fills.
the self is only a threshold, a door, a becoming between two multiplicities;the shadow escapes from the body like an animal we had been sheltering.she exists in a swamp
.
.
.
in a...humanbog.
aphid cycle 1: “insemination”
let the sperm of a man by itself be putrified in a gourd glasse, sealed up, with the highest degree of putrefaction in Horse dung, for the space of forty days, or so long untill it begin to bee alive, move, and stir. it will be something like a Man, yet transparent, and without a body.the gloved arms of its creator, each a selfish attempt of desperate individual construction of life in their own image. the abdomen flayed apart, where the ovary should be is replaced by a complex system.
material dreams
whose hand will feed you?a figure sings again. she dances in the bog, sludge clinging to her white dress like desperate arms of drowning men. she laughs, a melodious chime, a body of flesh gone cold. there is no shiver, no tremble, just unblinking eyes forward, staring at the vast emptiness, a scene playing before her....heavy lids blinked awake, so that only a slender chink of light seeped in, and she peered at the creeping trees outside the window. as though there, between those branches, the wind is about to take on visible form. as though the raindrops suspended in the air, held breath before the plunge, are on the cusp of trembling down....another dream.or... distant memory?
Aphid Cycle 2: “Manifestation”
a mythical phosphorescent elixir is necessary for the growth of the homunculus, nutrients to feed on with the absence of the womb.in the uniformed substance it is now, it shall be placed in the elixir made of ground sunstone, sulphur, magnet, green tutia, and the sap of a white willow. and at once, it will be clothed in human skin.a translucent (second) skin.
stretched over and melting and merging,
pulling and stretching for a bridge,
but still weighed in the Earth.
home is the first grave
suddenly it occurred to her to wonder: when the body dies, what happens to the soul? how long does it linger by the side of its former home? when a living person looks at a dead body, mightn't their soul also be there by its body's side, looking down at its own face?ah. to experience _____.to take. to be taken....by whose hands?...the coil manifests. a deep rooted hunger snaked its way out from within her ribs, crawling its way through her innards, like bile rising up her throat. when did it begin? has it always been there, laying in wait, like a predator's patience for prey?
Aphid Cycle 3: “Basiliske”
this wee call Homunculus, or Artificiall, and its offspring, the Basiliske. a creature of utmost greed, bred of a Woman’s menstruation, the Blood of her Sperm.the pleasure in the confusion of boundaries for responsibility in their construction, the relation between organism and machine has become a border war.it is an encounter of territories where the boundaries of one cannot be completely recognised from the boundaries of the other.
body and mind dissolving
during this process, each exhalation of breath will become increasingly protracted. while all the blood of the body will converge in the life channel.engulfing the suffocating mind in blackness, and one will experience the sensation of falling into darkness, as if into an abyss.at that point, ‘attainment’ will dissolve into the ‘subtle mind of near attainment’.and, as this occurs, one will swoon into a state of blissfulness. thus, consciousness dissolves into inner radiance, engendering the experience of the coemergent delight.at this point, awareness dissolves into actual reality, at the centre of the heart, like the meeting of mother and child.it is at this time that the inner breath will also cease, and the vital energy and mind will rest in the central channel.
i am my own Mother,
i am my own wretched Offspring.birth was like a fat black tongue,
dripping tar and dung and dye
slowly into my shivering eyes.
i might walk upright.
but then again,
i might still try to die.when the mouths in the earth
come to bite at my robes,
hell that sits below,
of you would do well to bellow.at the cold,the lifeless,the worsening souls.
muse
earth's perihelion,
parhelion prophet.
oversized cradle in the deep forest,
plucked by aged hands.＊ name: elias
＊ date of birth: january 01
＊ age: 28
＊ zodiac: capricorn
＊ gender: female
＊ occupation: artist＊ blind in the left eye
＊ jagged horizontal scar across lower abdomen
＊ scarred palms from multiple burns
＊ snowflake mark on abdomen (winter's claim)
＊ red heart tattoo on left hand's middle finger
(matching kae + mc)
＊ dagger tattoo adorned with daffodils on left rib (matching dahlia)
mun
＊ main @eliasgeit
＊ gmt+8, 25+
＊ nsfw, mdni
＊ will contain dark content
＊ mun works full-time, please bear with me
＊ writes in english, 日本語, 中文
＊ all art posted are mine
＊ plot-heavy, writing account
to appearand function hereonly aspure intensities.