ghxsts bio picture

FOOD FOR THOUGHT.

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
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"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."

some sense of security

We’re talking straight hate without right reason – remember kids, you can’t lessen shit without a lesson. So until your mouth stops spitting sounds off, until your fists start firing rounds off – Until you peel the mask off, strutting like all bets are knocked off. Eyes blood shot like you can’t doze off until you quit your teeth from shaking, speak your words without the vowels breaking. Until the man shows through the mouse, keep my name out of your mouth. You’re running like a faucet, face in your hands, mouth to the bottle. Not the soul I thought I knew, thought you had me but I took the hit, now you’re jamming just to throw a fit. It doesn’t phase me in the least bit – Oh shit, thanks for the heads up, almost forgot to pack my travel kit. A jury without a judge, “here you stand guilty”, no, I would rather sit. Thoughts feeling like flashbacks from shell-shock, friendships treated as over the counter stock. It might be flexing your head, but only thing running is your mouth. Your words are just words and your actions are without. Keep sweating cold & acting hot – because bullets sweat still rust. Head so high in the clouds you’re sucking back space dust, now what’s running off is what you shoulda thought, what’s catching up is what you shoulda got. Now what you’re living is what you’re really not. Dropping names just like you’re tossing change, case of the moth pockets, but a wallet straight stacked full of claims. Nose first into my brief case, I guess my business lost its name tag. This could get a little messy, 3rd strikes the accident…Ladies hold your purses – fellas get your bets in.

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