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Nude in Public Nightmare Model: Destiny
Destiny’s Naked Nightmare
In the realm of midnight’s haunting veil,
Destiny, stripped bare, wanders frail.
Through streets unknown, a surreal domain,
A nightmare’s grip, a relentless chain.
Naked truth adrift in shadows’ keep,
A city unfamiliar, lost in sleep.
Whispers of forgotten tales entwine,
As Destiny treads through the ghostly line.
Moonlit alleys, cobblestone dreams,
Echoes of silence, or so it seems.
Mysterious faces leer from the shade,
In the abandoned city, where fears cascade.
Twisted figures with eyes unknown,
Their gazes pierce through flesh and bone.
A carnival of the bizarre, a midnight parade,
Destiny’s essence on display, betrayed.
Lurking in corners, figures bizarre,
Dancing with shadows, beneath the stars.
Wraiths and phantoms, specters unkind,
In the surreal recesses of Destiny’s mind.
The city breathes, an entity obscure,
As Destiny stumbles, unsure.
Her footprints echo in deserted streets,
A symphony of solitude, where destiny meets.
The clock strikes midnight, a haunting chime,
As Destiny navigates the corridors of time.
Naked vulnerability in the moonlight,
A captive in her own nightmare’s spite.
Through this desolate city, she roams,
A captive soul in the cosmic catacombs.
Yet, in the heart of this dream-like despair,
Destiny seeks escape, a silent prayer.
In the labyrinth of the mind, she’s confined,
A dreamer lost in the corridors of the mind.
In the strange, surreal city, where shadows play,
Destiny yearns for the light of a new day.
Even a short time spent in a forest can change you and restore your soul. Breathe it in. Dance to its subtle rhythm. Let its underlying structure reset your mind. It is where nature reigns free. Beautiful and dangerous. Nurturing and hostile. A reminder of the primordial and ever-changing game of survival.
Honestly, I cannot say what the inspiration for this was, or what it is, or what it’s supposed to mean, or even why it should exist. Almost none of my work starts out as a concept, an idea taking form in the realm of words or intended meaning or purpose. This, like so much of my work, just springs forth my subconscious, much like a dream. One of my goals with Mother Id is to practice tapping into the wellspring of creative energy that lies beneath our conscious rational mind. Art does not have to make sense. It just is–like the universe. The only meanings are those we create. When I create some art, it’s usually only after its creation that I contemplate it and find meaning–meaning for myself that is; it might have different meaning for someone else, or no meaning at all. Maybe it serves as a visual metaphor for something and illuminates that something for us in a way that we did not otherwise see. Or maybe it evokes a feeling that we might not otherwise feel. To me, encountering art like this is like getting plopped down in some alien world. And though we may have questions and seek explanations, there are no manuals or teachers to provide answers. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this freaky, what-the-fuck-is-it, image, and I am sorry I cannot provide more insight about what it is and what it means. If I think of something I will let you know.










































