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Violator3 โ Insomnia...
Published: 2007-12-06 12:58:16 +0000 UTC; Views: 20694; Favourites: 909; Downloads: 0
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Description
...is just a matter of points of view
_
For the "...is just a matter of points of view" serie, of course.
Thank you
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Comments: 297
I felt a connection as soon as I saw this; I feel the concept very well.
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GOD that's exactly how it feels doesn't it?
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oh my god, you crazy genius woman, you.
Your art is so great. <3
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!! 
This could quite possibly be my favorite image I have seen this week. I featured it in my journal. [link]
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how great idea! God i Love it! and your all photos from the gallery
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nice concept!
very well done..u totally nailed it
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Love it! Very insightful, and the bright light of the tv really subdues the surrounding colors and gives that all too familiar feeling of insomnia. You captured this state so well in my opinion.
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you have a quirky and a devilishly unusual style and I love it! well done. keep it up!
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hmm, i guess that tvs don't get much sleep as their being warthed all the time...
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very emotive and different. great themes!
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This is such a creative (and accurate!) way to show insomnia! I love it
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.
the average adult needs about eight hours of sleep a night. or so they say. if i get four i'm lucky. there are few situations in life that make you this contemplative. drinking meade with another perceptive soul, for example. smoking cigarettes on a first date. that moment right before you fall asleep. holding someone's life or future in your hands. hearing the quiet whisper of the Spirit. having a loved one be angry with you. and insomnia.
we are everywhere. we roam the streets. our eyes are open but part of us is missing. we remember the dreams we have in those brief moments of sleep we manage to achieve and we wonder if this is all but a dream. we see life through a dull filter of narcissism and regret. but somehow it seems to weed out that which doesn't matter. the important things in life are magnified and the petty squabbles are naught but a buzzing insect in our ears. our past feels like the life of another, the present some kind of futile pursuit of megalomania, the future a decayed land of inflicted apathy.
the quiet haunting of the soul drowns out the sounds all around. to be alive is a rarity. there is opera in the air. chanting wailing voices all around. singing, screaming. a melodic cacophony reminding me of my illness. solace is an ever-allusive catchphrase. the knife flashes and now i am bleeding. i stare at the blood but why can't i feel it? i stretch out my arms and cry to the wind to take me away. i am up there on the cross with the One i love. i hear His anguish. for me. i glance to my left. and to my right. the faces of the thieves. they are mocking me. but their faces are my own. i have stolen nothing in my life. nothing except for what He gave to me. it was not mine to take. but i digress....
my head is spinning as i conduct this grand chorus. i can see my evil grin as the chords bend under my will. this symphony is mine to direct as i please. but my inspiration has fled like a ship in a raging storm. so i drop my arms and the music stops. once again the hideous roar of silence encompasses me. it overwhelms the desire to tap into that stream again. that river of supernatural extravaganza that flows through my brain like an undulating wave of power.
what am i talking about? i am but a mere child. a lost little boy who doesn't remember what it is like to hold the hand of a loving parent. a kid who has lost faith in the words "everything will be okay." spinning around in circles falling to the ground running but ending up in the same place crawling scratching screaming biting cutting clawing reaching failing to breathe breathing stale air shivering not shivering anymore stabbing feeling my heart beat but not believing in the simplicity of the five senses collapsing flying for a moment only to fall that much farther bleeding trusting believing doubting listening hearing not understanding praying crying out shaking my fist in defiance raising my head raising my voice hearing thoughts of others ignoring my own dancing twirling in a luminescent sea of chaos trying to overcome entropy skipping tripping laughing crashing flailing maiming healing maiming healing hurting restoring hurting restoring
need i go on?
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This is featured in my dA cliche-buster journal, here --> [link]
Hope that's ok
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