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."

buy me a suit

it was written

Countdown to twenty twelve, in a time machine all by myself. The past moves so fast and the present’s not quite the gift I’d thought I’d wrapped. Stuck pages flipped with finger tip spit. I’m just looking for a sleeping pill that puts me down like a fist, and keeps me up under eye lids, without the nauseous sedative. You remind me of piano notes, fretted string strums, light key strokes and stick needle pokes. Bird nests, hair dye, bath tubs and spelling tests. I’m too tired to be sick, but there’s a beauty to illness. Dying wishes, lost innocence, raspy breaths. That hopeful cling that sets in between cold coughs and colder sweats. I want to feel you like cancer. Perfect in a lot of the ways that it makes you think. Get into my blood stream, get under my skin. Rack my brain, make me scared, make me tear up, blink hard while I hold back the knot in my throat to save face. I just want to feel you. Be my friend. I want to tear into your chest and break your ribs while we kiss. We could speak in crossed tongues, chipped teeth and shared spit. You remind me of swimming pools of sweat, cool nights in the grass lost in thought… only, fucked up. So long as I’ve got two feet on the ground I’m grounded. It makes sense, I guess. Step back to reality, I felt that pinch, I feel that pinch. I can see my breath. Sometimes I pretend it’s a cigarette. I want to stay up all night to see your raccoon eyes, and have you hate me the best. Be my friend, take my hand… I feed on your thoughts. You shouldn’t have expected anything less. You know that played out shot on the rooftop? Where it’s quiet and still, and suddenly the pigeons take off? I want you to feel that. I’ll take your name, spell it out, say it out loud, and break it in two under stress. Drive one half to my head, and one to my chest.

I don’t even know you – but hate me best.


In a time of need only few can see what’s wrong,
millions tend to crawl but only those who choose can make it through this all.

only few can sing like lions ’cause we sing until we’re gone,
and we’ve got each others backs until we’re back where we belong.

a woman held my shield and through the battle we did wrong,
a man who taught me wisdom through the static we recall.

and maybe when we’ re gone our names will echo through the stars,
every start’s got it’s ending even when we’ve learned to rise above it all.

gold & diamonds

My eyes feel like acid and the only thing heavier than my limbs are my eyelids. I’ll dry-whistle a slow tune, while you wet my lips, in a void of semi-consciousness, and that’s all this ever really is. Exhausted air pulled by exhausted lungs, escaping puckered lips in broken song. I’d sooner run than tag along, the well-spoken song bird and the bastard son. Severed ties and two-decades sleep deprived. Poison spit and venom eyes, dilate to catch the light, while conscience quits and instinct hides. I lay still like wounded prey, on a bed of moss with fractured legs, but, still awake I salivate. Coins of copper and nickel protrude the pink of my teeth. Blades of grass and ivy leaves. Bleed me your toxin and I’d suck your flesh to simply taste your cells, rabbits feet and wound rat tails, the turquoise nights that fade to black, to gold, to yellow. We’re the bloodless bats, rabid wolves, and the hollow owls. I want to break, infatuate, recreate and abduct you. Breed our thought’s kin, choke you & hold you. You’ll bruise gold and I’ll bleed diamonds and we’ll run away rich, scared fearless, and young. Our eyes never shut and we never quite love, but as dark fades from light, we tie tongues as days meet their nights, and as the moons chase the suns.

You don’t say a word, and I don’t speak to anyone.


I guess I just can’t get you out of my blood, it’s always a waiting game, I’ll be tick and you be tock, and I just don’t understand how love could never be enough. Fuel yourself on what you never found, what you never had, and never got. Never felt, and never touched. My tissue’s slowly tearing and I need to readjust. My heart is ice, my eyes are fire, and my ribs are slowly being crushed. I need to breathe, I need to think, I need to stop, I need to sleep, I’m the thieving wolf and they’re always the innocent sheep.

I’d wear their skin to get them in, then strip them down and turn around, never looking back again. But you’ve got me looking back again, you’ve always had me looking back again. You need to keep me, lock me in, hold me down and carve your name into my flesh. Break my knees, tie me up, bite my lip, kiss my neck, and tell me to “stay put”. It’s never been a matter of wanting to leave, it’s just that leaving’s what I know best. It’s what I know, it’s who I am, it’s what I learnt as I grew up. Like the mother to a baby duck, only I first laid eyes on “never give a fuck”. So is this the wrong way to go? With each step down each notch of my spine I always think “Let’s just run, I’ve had enough.” We’ll flee to the North, to the South, West, or East… Coast to coast, and sea to sea. We’ll tear up highways, cross borders, mark miles and never stop. Fuck, I’ll take you to the moon and we’ll play the part of astronauts. Because this is exactly what I don’t let them see. But there’s that charm that they always talk about, I guess it’s like a clue that sits inside of me, begging to get out. That shimmer in my eye, that tiny diamond shine, a hopeful rupee of what I could be, should be, would be, if I could break out of this rut. It’s what keeps them coming back to me. When the light hits it just right you can catch it, faintly, apparently.

I’ll save you, and you save me.
You have to get this out of me.


we are young, we have heart: born in this world while it all falls apart.

jeffrey - very nice!October 3, 2010 - 10:08 am

Dylan - wasn't taken by me - I think I need to make what's shot by me and what isn't more clear on my blog, hahah. =)October 3, 2010 - 9:31 pm


“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.



Heather - I'm a huge fan of this post :) Love the funny guys!!October 5, 2010 - 8:42 am


Rational people, anti-religionists, must end their timidity and come out of the closet and assert themselves. And those who consider themselves only moderately religious really need to look in the mirror and realize that the solace and comfort that religion brings you actually comes at a terrible price.

Religions are maintained by people. People who can’t get laid, because sex is the first great earthly pleasure. But if you can’t get that, power is a pretty good second one. And that’s what religion gives to people. Power. Power is sex for people who can’t get or don’t want or aren’t any good at sex itself.

The irony of religion is that because of its power to divert man to destructive courses, the world could actually come to an end. The plain fact is, religion must die for mankind to live. The hour is getting very late to be able to indulge in having in key decisions made by religious people. By irrationalists, by those who would steer the ship of state not by a compass, but by the equivalent of reading the entrails of a chicken. George Bush prayed a lot about Iraq, but he didn’t learn a lot about it. Faith means making a virtue out of not thinking. It’s nothing to brag about. And those who preach faith, and enable and elevate it are intellectual slaveholders, keeping mankind in a bondage to fantasy and nonsense that has spawned and justified so much lunacy and destruction. Religion is dangerous because it allows human beings who don’t have all the answers to think that they do. Most people would think it’s wonderful when someone says, “I’m willing, Lord! I’ll do whatever you want me to do!” Except that since there are no gods actually talking to us, that void is filled in by people with their own corruptions and limitations and agendas. And anyone who tells you they know, they just know what happens when you die, I promise you, you don’t. How can I be so sure? Because I don’t know, and you do not possess mental powers that I do not. The only appropriate attitude for man to have about the big questions is not the arrogant certitude that is the hallmark of religion, but doubt. Doubt is humble, and that’s what man needs to be, considering that human history is just a litany of getting shit dead wrong. This is why rational people, anti-religionists, must end their timidity and come out of the closet and assert themselves. And those who consider themselves only moderately religious really need to look in the mirror and realize that the solace and comfort that religion brings you actually comes at a terrible price. If you belonged to a political party or a social club that was tied to as much bigotry, misogyny, homophobia, violence, and sheer ignorance as religion is, you’d resign in protest. To do otherwise is to be an enabler, a mafia wife, for the true devils of extremism that draw their legitimacy from the billions of their fellow travelers. If the world does come to an end here, or wherever, or if it limps into the future, decimated by the effects of religion-inspired nuclear terrorism, let’s remember what the real problem was that we learned how to precipitate mass death before we got past the neurological disorder of wishing for it. That’s it. Grow up or die.

Ryan - Fearing God is the beginning of all wisdom. The fool says in his heart there is no God. Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. God never wanted religion. Religion is man's attempt for eternity. However, God desires a relationship where He can call us sons and daughters, where we can get to know Him in an intimate way. This is why Jesus came and died on the cross for me and you, that we may have fellowship with God. You have to be able to discern God from hypocrisy seen in people. Men love darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil (John 3:19). People do not determine who God is. By attacking humans then assuming you defeat God, you have indeed committed a fallacy known as a straw-man fallacy.October 4, 2010 - 11:44 pm


The older ones will all tell us, we can make our lives sublime.
And when we leave, to leave behind us footprints in the sands of time.
While time is still passing on, we know our race will soon be run.
But we can strive to be extraordinary – and leave a legacy bright as the sun.

hello brooklyn

What are you and what constellation where you born from? Are you from this universe? I think I can see fragments of your soul and you glow different then most of those stars far up in the sky. Were you born from one of the craters that make up the face of the moon? When was the last time you felt such an impact in your life? One strong enough to leave such a deep mark in your surface. One you cannot hide. Will you find beauty in such unpreventable decay? Like some God drove their fist through hell to reach your heart and there is nothing left of your rib cage to hide your demons. Your heart is bare and drying on its surface in the cold winter air. I would breathe all of my heat onto my hands but am I even man enough to let this heat hold your heart and melt the frost that is out to bite it. There are some questions not even time can answer. But sometimes light is found in some of the strangest places.

In some obscure way I think love has found me. For life and my well being. For freedom. I have my life to live for and friends to die for. The mask has melted off me with my first real step into the sun. I can feel it penetrate my skin. The shaking and vibrating has come to an end. I cannot see change. I am living in difference. I don’t need to see it. I am change. My core is glowing. I can feel my heart swelling in my chest.

This is the death of that person I’d become. The words have written themselves on my walls. This skeleton is growing flesh that feels familiar and the sun is embracing the path that I’m walking on. There is warmth in my old skin. I feel reborn again. A person I lost years ago.

Disconnection is a word I’ve tattooed somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach. It rots with all the pride I’ve swallowed. I’ve slept in a shallow grave for far too long. Just because I’m too drunk to walk it doesn’t mean I can’t feel it and just because I’m too stoned to talk this doesn’t mean that I can’t see truth for what it is.

My negativity is still a malicious force to be reckoned with so don’t push me. Your past under no circumstances creates a future for yourself. So cut the shit and learn to live with it. There’s no room left to speak. Just empty spaces for my words to echo out of. You do not want to hear these words repeated. It is a steep and sudden cliff from here. Though my words don’t have the ability to push you off my intention certainly does.