museum

CITY ART MUSEUM RULES: - No jumping. - No flying. - No clipping through walls. - Do not enter the employees only area. - No touching the artworks. - No talking. - No screenshots. - Follow the intended path. - Do not enter the employees only area. - No smoking. - No criticism of displayed artworks. - No bags are allowed. - Do not enter the employees only area. - No food or drink. - Do not enter the employees only area. - Do not enter the employees only area.

WORKS OF SUBMIT.

WORKS OF BINGING WITH ANISH.

WORKS OF SANKBY.

worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms. worms.

Tear this page in half. Tear this page in half. Tear this page in half. Tear this page in half. Tear this page in half. Tear this page in half. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

Every knife, Every edge of every blade Corrupts me. Like the One Ring. And it feels as though no-one is familiar with the draw of something sharp. The purity that’s held in the gravity of the handle. in the gravity of the handle. the tension, between your finger and the edge. in the gravity of the handle. The tension. between your finger and the edge. or the edge and your arm. your thigh. your neck. your bicep.

I’m a bug. I’m a bug and I’m nothing. I’m even made of bugs. A million of them. scurrying on top of each other. Clambering and squirming, and fucking. making more bugs. making more me. I, or rather we, sit in a clump, this nest, which I adorn with bones and trinkets. keepsakes from lovers that I’ve picked over. or we’ve picked over. and before me, or before us, are these screens we watch the world from. bright CRT monitors illuminate the bugs the me and we watch as our shell moves about the world Clambering, and squirming and fucking. To make more bugs, and gather morsels from lovers to eat, and make bones and trinkets from.

The truth, like an odd number of razor blades between each of my teeth. pulled from my mouth, all at once, by awful twine, wrapped around your finger. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to do this. It’s not how I imagined it. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you. This isn’t how i felt in my head. My mouth fills with my own blood, and it tastes like sweet, metal. like pork. and it makes me stutter.

Romance was never easy for me. It is my greatest secret of them all. for I am not a girl, but a mass of bugs behind a wall of screens, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding and bleeding.

I am ripped from the flesh of my father’s chest, and imbued with the runes of his cursed book. To wander this earth in search of gods. Long Dead. So I’ve given up and found solace in you. And my heart, which was ripped from a different grave than my lungs and my the halves of my brain, lusts for a temple. To Worship. To Praise. To lay my head, at the feet of a Lord. And here you are, And here you are, with heart, and lungs, and different halves of different brains, made in the image of a divine father. Eve and Eve. And yet you scream, or so I fear you may, That I never turn to face you.

I was born, with an overwhelming amount of guilt. That I have never been able to shed. Terrified that you, or someone, will see it too. And feel it’s weight. And try to fix, or carry, what I must carry alone. Because I was born with an overwhelming amount of guilt. That I have never been able to shed. It’s a sickness, that I let spread, from my torso, to my legs. Because another let it seep down to the marrow of my bones.

I am not a woman. I am not a girl in love. This is not sweet, or kind, and it does not deserve a warmth or an applause. An ovation, of grinning, smiling, faces. I am not a woman, I am still, that teenage boy, With rage and hurt, in his heart. Who cannot be trusted with a car or a weapon, or other people's affection. A quiet, violent, fool. I am not a woman. Who kisses sweetly, and who’s arms softly embrace. I will not whisper you silent sweet kisses. for my lips are chapped and bitter. from a life of spewing hate.

I saw a synthetic heart pump blood into hydraulic presses. And it gave life to a person, with no pain, or pause. Just like a real heart. I hope this mechanical version, this sweet metronome will be able to carry, shame for it’s most tender parts Just like a real heart.

my father never wanted me to see myself, in the worm that was such as I. The hymn’s just a hymn, or that’s what he said. about the worm that was such as I. But still I listened, and still we sang, And so I made a mound. Of dirt in my heart, for the worm that was such as I.

I wanted to tell you, that night after she, performed for us on that stage, Number after number, movement after movement, but still I did not say. I wanted to tell you, after the movie, shot after shot, of parking lots, suburban, and lame. But after the credits I kept on quiet, and still I did not say, I wanted to tell you, when pushing your cart. and you were excited for bulk frozen foods. but I just kept pushing, and still I did not stay, Or on your couch, or in our cars, or walking underneath starless, cold, Denton, night; only to be warmed by your gaze. but silent I still remained.

I, the living bomb. tick- ticking ever slowly till I forget to eat, or take the precious pill and turn everyone I love away. I , the loaded gun, pointed at the temple of my loved ones. am told every day, that I’m good and wanted by hands who hold their heads hostage, for my occasional kindness. I, call to action, a committee, and a treaty, to banish all of these weapons; These man killing monsters. To melt down my cold steel forged frame. until I am nothing, so that all will know peace.

Yesterday I dressed, Like someone who lived here. Just to see, just to know. what it might feel like. Yesterday I dressed, Like a boy you might like. Just to see, just to know. if it would trick you, Yesterday I dressed, in only one jacket. In the cold, around my waist, so you would take it.

I will be normal when I taste my own blood. I will be normal when I taste my own blood. I will be normal when I taste my own blood.

Soft as the evening, A warmth, Like a fire behind a door There is a stirring, My torn, Tired Body's not ready for. -- so -- I'm tying a cloth around my eyes To find your body in the night Like making love to Medusa. And when your gaze catches mine, Then I'll finally be alive, Forever petrified in the noon sun.

Talk Slow ly Can't Speak Non verb al But Consenting Yes More Please mis t Ress

hi!! I'm Gren :0 I'm a HOT HORNY MILF NEAR YOU who loves pretending to know how to play bass, watching horror movies on VHS, and telling you who characters are voiced by in whatever we're watching. I also have a German shepherd named Jerry! polyamorous, but I'm so normal about it. open to anything! (T4 [OUT OF CHARACTERS]

Blue and red soldiers March Through city streets on horses - gilded ropes and spears adorn them The reigns pulled taught on the inbreds mount As presidential palace guards maintain the peace. Walking in toe, a soldier- a real one in camo and boots - follows behind Shoveling shit that falls into the street. Yeah he's the man with the gun, and the man with a cap And his boots tuck nicely with his uniform He looks like a young Castro When he was hot and young, and fresh with ideas Of how to save the world. But our Castro walks with purpose now, And det-er-min-a-tion Shoveling shit for the presidents guard The presidents guard of equator. DONT TOUCH THE DOGS ON THE STREET. THE DOGS ON THE STREET. DONT TOUCH THE DOGS ON THE STREET. THE DOGS ON THE STREET. THEY CARRY FLEAS AND TICS AND THINGS - THESE WEAPONS NOT YET KNOWN TO US. AND THEYLL BITE YOUR HAND AND THEYLL TAKE YOUR LAND DO NOT TOUCH THE DOGS ON THE STREET.

At the center of the universe There is a woman. A woman and a chair. And though they are both eternal Beings in their own respect, She has spent eons attempting to sit comfortably, And she will spend many more to come before she finds respite. However, every so often in the wandering emptiness, she lies. She crosses her legs off to the right side of the seat and rests her arm over the edge of the chair's back. She says "much better" or "there we go" to nobody. She does this until even she can no longer believe her own lie, and then she shuffles once more. On the other end of the telescope, a young researcher sits, in an office chair that isn't quite tall enough, eyeing the woman she had seen on the cover of magazines and scientific journals for the last decade. And she does not worry, and she does not ponder, as many do over the woman and the chair and what may happen if she were to "settle in" as the apocalyptics call it. Instead, she sees a universe unexplored, with so much unknown to us, and the thought of being a mere spec in it all becomes far less cold than it used to be. Because no matter what else lies behind that dark curtain of stars, whatever horrors there may be, she knows at the very least that there is one universal truth. That wherever there are girls, none of them can stand to sit still.

I was scared, I was scared And it was fun (Jan/29/23)

We built the machines and the machines took all our jobs But before the machines took the jobs from the painters and the singers The painters took the jobs from the mountains and the flowers and the birds We built machines to take the jobs from the wind and from the shade and we built machines that took the jobs from the snow and the ice caps So that we may cool our coffees and our teas The doctors stole the jobs from the suns and the vitamins and the factories and the machines took the jobs from the dried out riverbanks

I am gonna be The most famous artist ever in the world More realistic less attainable Than comic artist with a soul I don't need to sell a painting Pushing tickets to It's making I'll kill myself over a canvas Keep my receipt and return Within the month. There's a guy who told me He could sell my sketch book pages Make beyond my expectations Turn em into nfts Don't know what that means But he said I get to keep like 10%

National hero barbie Suicide prevention hotline barbie Sister of a thousand earths priestess barbie Secret lesbian cop wife barbie boomer cruise swinger barbie Workplace sexual harassment gamestop employee barbie Climate denier neo-con politician barbie CIA asset E-girl army recruiter barbie Sissification Hypnosis barbie Moon landing denier barbie Anarcho-communist barbie Scary dog privilege barbie ASMR girlfriend roleplay soft domination barbie self taught ableton producer and noise musician barbie

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CITY ART MUSEUM