Zehraan.

To drive me mad, to crumble completely under your influence, and yet, I long for you with every fiber of my existence. It is the darkest form of need, a vice I do not wish to cure, because in that chaos, paradoxically, I feel most alive.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I yearn for the cycle that devours me. That spiral that consumes me, where every step is pain and every breath, a strange satisfaction. I do not seek calm, but the storm that only you know how to unleash in me.

My soul, in silence, despairs for the poison that made me an addict, for the end of the world that felt like my only home.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I crave the chaos that consumed me, the storm that made me feel alive. I miss the madness that took my breath away, that suffocated me to the point where I couldn’t breathe if I wasn't near.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ If the echo of their pleasure leaves no trail of scars and the taste of blood on their lips, they have not known the true devotion of desire. Ecstasy is not a gentle caress; it is a storm that shakes the soul and the flesh, a total surrender to the edge of pain.

Also, for those interested, I'm more active on Discord.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Interact with this post to receive a message from me.

“Torment and tears; after all, that is life, too." — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I want to capture that specific, vulgar grace of a body that has stopped pretending it belongs to itself. The collarbone creates a hollow that looks like a shallow grave for things he's too afraid to say out loud. I want it to look like a cage that’s barely holding in the beast.

Saint Sébastien, 1530 by Jacopo Carucci dit Pontormo

@zmbqie @anqelcuts 🫖

This piece is called 욕망의 껍질. The skin of wanting.

People stand in front of it and call it damaged. I find that telling. Damage is what happens to something against its will. This — this is disclosure. This is a body that has decided, finally, to stop holding itself together for the comfort of the room.

I did not set out to make something beautiful. I set out to make something true — and truth, in my experience, always arrives looking like this. Partially destroyed. Skin that has been peeled back not by violence but by the slow, deliberate work of exposure.