ghxsts bio picture


Welcome to my blog!

Hello my name is: Icicle Audacity. All I see are ghxsts. I'm the misguided stride for self improvement - a sadistic, futuristic machine. A hollow cold emitted through vibrant lights, it’s a warm as wool winter but I’ve got a chill I can’t shake. This is what I am & I think I’m fine in my own misguidance. My bones are frozen, my marrow has turned to ice - my body is just a body, a corpse without a head. I'm just a vessel & my brain has long been dead.

Dylan McAmmond
En Vogue Photography

"That's really the only thing that matters to me, is that I make art for a living. And if I make art for a living... I win."


“Oh, Beauty is a beguiling call to death and I am addicted to the sweet pitch of its siren”

I don’t understand women and beauty. Who does? I don’t think they even understand themselves. Not in the aspect of their own identity but how they play these games. I can’t wrap my head around it. Ultimately I just don’t care. The thought required reduces the time I have to exist as a person drastically.

It’s the greatest sense of detachment it’s why we hang onto things like beauty because it makes our hearts beat. I would rather cut myself loose then submit myself to the road rash that’s ahead to come. A rib cage can only protect you from so much.

We all in the end still need something we can “love” with. With everyone I know and their past they’re already left with such a mangled meaty muscle that’s hardly pumping blood because they chased what the media portrays as beauty rather than what personally think beauty is…Or was.

That’s what gives us such a great sense of disaster. When you love something enough but are left to face with the facts that not all things you think are beautiful can feel the same for you. You can’t live your life with the knowledge that the one thing that makes your heart beat unable to feel it.

This doesn’t mean beauty and love is hopeless. I just can’t bear it in mind to rip myself apart for such things. Not everyone is worth fighting for. Due to the harm it will cause yourself, not to mention the embarrassment and direction that pushes that person away. It will leave your own blood on your hands. Chasing such things feels like ripping your skin off yourself. Shedding yourself down to bone to see how certain you are.

This has no direction. It’s just a rant. Every word and emotion is grown from something. But not what you may think it is. Just a history.

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