In
The Demon’s Head #96: The Face
April
8, 2013
Hello
everyone. Hope that you’re Monday is off to an interesting start. Before I show
you today’s picture, I want to tell you a little story. Saturday I was moving
some files around on my computer and noticed that I haven’t moved in a while.
When I moved my writing stuff onto a backup harddrive, I noticed a file called
“Metal Jacket Magazine” For those of you who don’t know what it is, it was a
magazine I started a couple years ago. I had the idea of putting out monthly
issues and only made it a few months in before I lost the idea and ambition to
do it. Fast forward almost two years and a platform has been developed. I won’t
say that this Magazine will make reappearance, but it was good to look at some
old ideas. Who knows in the future it may come to something and Metal Jacket
Magazine may be available again.
Enough
of my Bullshitting, let’s take a look at today’s picture:
The
Face
The
image is burned into my head,
Like
a horribly done name,
On
a knitted sweater,
I
can’t explain why,
But
I know that he’s coming back,
I
may confuse you,
But
stick with me,
It
started years ago,
I
was a small child,
And
I was taken away from my parents,
They
claimed that I was crazy,
That
I saw things,
That
weren’t there,
That
I heard voices,
That
were only in my head,
The
place they took me,
Kept
me,
Took
us on trips,
It
was during one of these outings,
That
I saw that face for the first time,
On
a tree,
Carved
in with a knife,
As
if just for me,
In
my head,
I
knew it was a sign,
I
knew that it was something,
That
would lead me,
In
life,
And
I was right,
The
face,
Was
given as a way,
To
choose the path,
That
I needed to walk,
Eventually,
My
parents died,
And
every test proved that I was normal,
But
I had been taught how to cheat the system,
By
the face,
As
soon as I was on the outside,
I
began his work,
Murder,
Killing,
And
saving their souls,
For
him,
It
wasn’t long,
Until
I found myself caught again,
And
this time I was put in prison,
And
that’s where I stand now,
Still
doing his work,
Only
this time it’s inmates,
People
who bare his mark,
The
mark of the Face,
I
feel vindicated,
Every
time one of them stops breathing,
As
if he’s proud of me,
But
I can’t ever be sure,
I
can only sit and wait,
For
my next target,
I
have a feeling,
That
it won’t be long,
Before
he pops up,
His
face again.
About
The Piece
This
was one of those pictures where I really had no idea what I was doing at first.
I had a few ideas go through my head but I didn’t know if any of them would
work. Finally I sat down and started running with this piece. I can understand
how it’s kind of confusing but the underlying meaning should be obvious. At
least I hope so.
You
can connect with me on these networks:
If
you would like to email me you can do that. You can also donate if your heart
so desires. Finally you can subscribe to the blog by putting your email in the
upper right hand corner. Until the next time you want to take a trip through
the gates of hell and into the demon’s head, I’m Kyle Robinson wishing you a
safe trip back to the surface.
No comments:
Post a Comment