surrealism:

Katmandu Corridor by Salvador Dalí, 1971. Drypoint with hand coloring, 39.4 × 31.8 cm.

surrealism:

Katmandu Corridor by Salvador Dalí, 1971. Drypoint with hand coloring, 39.4 × 31.8 cm.

(via penseesduchoeur)

pubertad:

Andy Warhol, Botticelli, 1984

pubertad:

Andy Warhol, Botticelli, 1984

(via fourforyouglen)

the-conquistador:

CONTINUITIES IN DANCES OF NORMALITIES
    Contents in the asphyxiated drawers,          nightmarish thoughts loathing missionary egoes,                smudged and eaten, bitten in copied ecstasies,           swollen in bittersweet realities,                sucked back into thetic guilts,                          hugging lame moralities,                bellyaching for saviours of dignities,         corporeal screams spitted out—               Doubted, withdrawn, commanded, ordered, fucked, locked,                        copied and sickened,               deported souls beheaded by technological swords:                         Ideas falling like flies on the webs;
               Squamose monstrosities come crawling pathetic           blowing minds off shoulders, splashing, blasting jobs,                  breaking eyeless bigots’ necks with no ears               hoping for insulting worthies in homeless pricks,              eyeing for shaped assonances from Gods of books—                                                                   La la la, la la la,childhoods are hooded on tramlines,disguised and abandoned in promenades,camouflaged and trained in infidelities,burnt hearts - shot, smashed again - guards branded snipers and distributors               with balls grabbed by propagandists                  with balls grabbed by sweet tellers                     with brains chopped off for thirsts of social injustices;
                             Hues flowing through points and assholes,            rocky, bumpy curves acting like tiny Casanovas,                      blood flows seething off skins, boiled,                               hoarse movements indeed,                                        meshed up into drivels driveling to sexy coreswhile                                     corpses stumbling, vibratinglike                                 grounded aeroplanes of forgotten dreams—                            Paint dried, fat soil, tossing in late nights,                                             [constipations?]                         licked and discovered in newspapers’ headlines                             he’s dancing in lewd joys                                 for sights of penetrating celebs,                                    wrapped in controllably wet hypermetropias:                                        A family of two and three, some coins,smile,                                                  satiations and fights, faked,lie,                               peeps in shining amours, illustrious,write;
              Wondrous persecutions beyond naked truths                     spewed out by considers and moans,         first classes and whities running ‘round senselessly                     in fascinating reiterations and yawns,                                meticulously rehearsed,                    all succumbing to fancied hierarchies—                              Touched by townwhores,                        sored by mounted lonelinesses,                            erected by attentive orifices                        he’s living in semantic sentences,                                                                              breathing air and shit,                                                                          cooking beans,inhaling sunshines’ fairnesses,   lying in windy arms’ apathies:                                                              A wanderer of gaunt darknesses,                                                                  carrying sounded pretensions;
Scared shitless,                                              no damns given;
- The Conquistador

Artwork: The Dancer by Egon Schiele

the-conquistador:

CONTINUITIES IN DANCES OF NORMALITIES

    Contents in the asphyxiated drawers,
         nightmarish thoughts loathing missionary egoes,
                smudged and eaten, bitten in copied ecstasies,
          swollen in bittersweet realities,
                sucked back into thetic guilts,
                         hugging lame moralities,
                bellyaching for saviours of dignities,
        corporeal screams spitted out—
               Doubted, withdrawn, commanded, ordered, fucked, locked,
                        copied and sickened,
               deported souls beheaded by technological swords:
                        Ideas falling like flies on the webs;

               Squamose monstrosities come crawling pathetic
           blowing minds off shoulders, splashing, blasting jobs,
                  breaking eyeless bigots’ necks with no ears
               hoping for insulting worthies in homeless pricks,
             eyeing for shaped assonances from Gods of books—
                                                                   La la la, la la la,
childhoods are hooded on tramlines,
disguised and abandoned in promenades,
camouflaged and trained in infidelities,
burnt hearts - shot, smashed again -
guards branded snipers and distributors
               with balls grabbed by propagandists
                  with balls grabbed by sweet tellers
                     with brains chopped off for thirsts of social injustices;

                             Hues flowing through points and assholes,
            rocky, bumpy curves acting like tiny Casanovas,
                      blood flows seething off skins, boiled,
                               hoarse movements indeed,
                                        meshed up into drivels driveling to sexy cores
while
                                     corpses stumbling, vibrating
like
                                grounded aeroplanes of forgotten dreams—
                            Paint dried, fat soil, tossing in late nights,
                                             [constipations?]
                         licked and discovered in newspapers’ headlines
                             he’s dancing in lewd joys
                                 for sights of penetrating celebs,
                                    wrapped in controllably wet hypermetropias:
                                        A family of two and three, some coins,
smile,
                                                  satiations and fights, faked,
lie,
                               peeps in shining amours, illustrious,
write;

              Wondrous persecutions beyond naked truths
                     spewed out by considers and moans,
         first classes and whities running ‘round senselessly
                     in fascinating reiterations and yawns,
                               meticulously rehearsed,
                    all succumbing to fancied hierarchies—
                              Touched by townwhores,
                        sored by mounted lonelinesses,
                            erected by attentive orifices
                        he’s living in semantic sentences,
                                                                              breathing air and shit,
                                                                          cooking beans,
inhaling sunshines’ fairnesses,
   lying in windy arms’ apathies:
                                                              A wanderer of gaunt darknesses,
                                                                  carrying sounded pretensions;

Scared shitless,                                              no damns given;

- The Conquistador

Artwork: The Dancer by Egon Schiele

(Source: jonathankroell, via hopnotch)

blue-voids:

Egon Schiele - Gerti Schiele, 1909

blue-voids:

Egon Schiele - Gerti Schiele, 1909


Thirty are Better than One, 2014
Painted Plaster Cast


Thirty are Better than One
, 2014

Painted Plaster Cast

(Source: thejogging)

"I remember kissing a lover for the first time and my most immediate thought was, ‘world peace’. I remember thinking, ‘I want everything to taste like this’."

— Te’ V. Smith & Patricia Kihoro When Lips Calm A Warring Heart (via tevsmith)

(via nayyirahwaheed)

dat-sick:

Tom Sachs

  1. Composition C: Composition with Gray and Red, 1996
  2. Chanel Guillotine (Breakfast Nook), 1998
  3. Chanel Chain Saw, 1996
  4. Hermès Value Meal, 1997
  5. Loading, 2007
  6. Master, 2008-2010