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."

Monthly Archives: March 2011

been to hell

The weather reflects my minds’ endeavors as I get together to research the now and find out if it leads to forever. The temperature’s unreadable; but my mind is now unbeatable – I’m too old to fold due to the cold; hell, it’s greetable, because I’ve never in my life understood just why I fight to live in […]

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best of times, the end of times.

“Your blindfold is on tight, but you like what you see. So follow me into the night, ’cause I got just what you need. We’re all rollin’ down the boulevard, full of pimps and sharks – It’s a motherfuckin’ riot, we’ve been dying to start. You better grab a hold cuz now you know your […]

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“How low can I keep pretending to be? That all the stars in the sky could mean something to me. Heaven will open up if I live on my knees. A man of many words, but of few deeds. Leave the virtue of pity, but we live with the shame. So scared to dream in a world with no […]

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she winks rainbows. . .

. . .he drinks draino. I’m not a writer because I apologise for what I write. I’m not a writer because I hate the craft and the thorns it pricks into wounds – sticky and healing. I’m not a writer because I don’t give a fuck about your apostrophes and periods, full stops or half stops or broken wo  rds or legs. I’m a writer because I can look at any fucking […]

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living like ghxsts in this globe we can’t run from

Picture this: Each moment fades like days fade to nights fade to dreams fade to mornings fade to something fade to nothing and in the end it becomes exhausting. It becomes desolate. You’re isolated and you’re just stranded. You’re trapped on a raft with no direction to sail, because each route is blocked by the violentviolentviolent […]

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