Placeholder: You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom

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@generalpha

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You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom

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2 years ago

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Give them one of those captivating styles... Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Solzhenitsyn... Yes... a psychological journey... channel Gogol with a touch of Orwell... blend in a little Cold War... sure... surreal events in a Soviet town... a man encounters a phantom trooper lurking in an abandoned factory... "Twilight Zone." Now... what do they look like? No! Not that! Did that before-- What? No, not that way! Damn deadlines. They're throwing me off completely. Too much pressure. Mixing up the scenes! Too
Not my mess to clean’
Not my mess to clean’
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The White Nurse enters in the dimly lit bedroom, shadows danced ominously across the walls as the night grew darker. The room is filled with terror as the monstrous presence beneath your bed stirred and twisted, its eerie limbs creeping out into the moonlit room. Just as fear threatened to consume you, a soft, soothing voice cut through the darkness.
Through the broken windows of abandoned buildings, glimpses of the city's past glimmered like fading memories. Faded billboards advertising products that no longer existed, cracked movie posters from an era long gone, and remnants of a bygone society that had crumbled under the weight of its own hubris. Yet, amidst the ruins, there were pockets of resistance, small enclaves of hope that refused to surrender. Underground networks of rebels and freedom fighters plotted and strategized, their spiri
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Not my mess to clean’
The White Nurse enters in the dimly lit bedroom, shadows danced ominously across the walls as the night grew darker. The room is filled with terror as the monstrous presence beneath your bed stirred and twisted, its eerie limbs creeping out into the moonlit room. Just as fear threatened to consume you, a soft, soothing voice cut through the darkness.
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
white hallway of a hospital where a brunette woman is covered in blood. The view is shocking, with parts of bodies scattered everywhere. The woman, with her eerie appearance and determined posture, conveys a sense of determination and strength in a context of destruction and desolation. The contrast between her blood-stained figure and the clinical environment of the corridor creates a powerful visual impact, hinting at a story filled with violence and conflict. Her presence, amidst debris and h
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