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Description
... A strangeness, a disconnect of expectation that seemed to halt all progress that the mind willed forthed, with as little consequence as breath drawn without mirth, aware of that which occurred just outside of awareness, that which trailed against lives and seemed in want to beg forgiveness. As though wishing words, apologies for whatever perceived sins had been conducted were in want to spill over the edges of lips, trickle down the chin usually accustomed to blood, holding with it that unknowing innocence that should never have existed. For it was in those gentle showings of naivety that gave birth to horror as well as ghosts, as though for those kindness to ever have been there had been seem some ulterior motive held within. Just a manner of perspective, adopted by the remainder of the world as they looked on through heart shaped glasses broken, shattered by what they had known. Hardened touches and existence build upon exchanging blows. Thus, there was nothing to fault in denying smiles or truth or whatever happiness would cost from one to another, from humanity still slaving away at the machine to which it had been bidden. Hearts were foolish things anyway, meant to be cast aside in favor for bullets and metal creating scars on a floor. Misery seemed to have heightened to its own currency, made to be dealt with both tight lips and vacant eyes, if even acknowledged at all. It was no small wonder many thought there was no goodness left in this world, nothing worth keeping or working toward. That is what they carried with them, not in a manner of supplies or bags or things, but with them they carried their nothingness, the fabric from which their lives seemed to be seamed. Behind small smiles and gestures ever so soft there was a shallow grave, a sin that had been cut from that same cloth. What point was there to give oneself to something as fickle as hope, as dimly cast as love when there was something more tangible, more definite in store - tightened fists and parting skin and depression endlessly to grow. A small wonder that people said that what would be reaped is what would be sown ...

Time appears to be growing kinder in many respects, giving me at least a taste before it is all so willingless washed away. Lately I have been far more productive than I can say I have been in many weeks, months, even, and I can only hope such will last, to whatever detriment it may be to my mood. Featured here is Gerard Way - former lead singer of My Chemical Romance, and at one time the leader of the Black Parade. Words cannot attest to how much that one album has meant to me in my life, how much it has allowed me to feel, and how many doors it has opened within my self that allow opportunities beyond the internal. Such saved me, as the stories can say, though this ... this is my Gerard. This is how I have seen him, how I shall see him, and how I will remember him as, even as he moves on - the man that is beyond my own image of what, at one time he represented. The need to carry on. The need to continue in a world that wished to pull, to drag, into the depths - and only a place where we can pull ourselves from.

I have been experimenting with my style as of late, trying to find something new or varied or ... anything. This peice simply happened. I was watching the music video "No Shows" from Gerard's album Hestitant Alien and it ... sparked remembering in me. So, a quick sketch turned into something else and this was born from that. I have no idea what to feel about such, other than ... hollow at what has been expressed.

Don't read too much into it, or you might go blind.

Enjoy.

xxx

Gerard Way/My Chemical Romance/Black Parade to respective owners/selves
Artwork belongs to Me
Reference found off of the horrible black hole that is Google

Do not use, steal, ect.

Description
... A strangeness, a disconnect of expectation that seemed to halt all progress that the mind willed forthed, with as little consequence as breath drawn without mirth, aware of that which occurred just outside of awareness, that which trailed against lives and seemed in want to beg forgiveness. As though wishing words, apologies for whatever perceived sins had been conducted were in want to spill over the edges of lips, trickle down the chin usually accustomed to blood, holding with it that unknowing innocence that should never have existed. For it was in those gentle showings of naivety that gave birth to horror as well as ghosts, as though for those kindness to ever have been there had been seem some ulterior motive held within. Just a manner of perspective, adopted by the remainder of the world as they looked on through heart shaped glasses broken, shattered by what they had known. Hardened touches and existence build upon exchanging blows. Thus, there was nothing to fault in denying smiles or truth or whatever happiness would cost from one to another, from humanity still slaving away at the machine to which it had been bidden. Hearts were foolish things anyway, meant to be cast aside in favor for bullets and metal creating scars on a floor. Misery seemed to have heightened to its own currency, made to be dealt with both tight lips and vacant eyes, if even acknowledged at all. It was no small wonder many thought there was no goodness left in this world, nothing worth keeping or working toward. That is what they carried with them, not in a manner of supplies or bags or things, but with them they carried their nothingness, the fabric from which their lives seemed to be seamed. Behind small smiles and gestures ever so soft there was a shallow grave, a sin that had been cut from that same cloth. What point was there to give oneself to something as fickle as hope, as dimly cast as love when there was something more tangible, more definite in store - tightened fists and parting skin and depression endlessly to grow. A small wonder that people said that what would be reaped is what would be sown ...

Time appears to be growing kinder in many respects, giving me at least a taste before it is all so willingless washed away. Lately I have been far more productive than I can say I have been in many weeks, months, even, and I can only hope such will last, to whatever detriment it may be to my mood. Featured here is Gerard Way - former lead singer of My Chemical Romance, and at one time the leader of the Black Parade. Words cannot attest to how much that one album has meant to me in my life, how much it has allowed me to feel, and how many doors it has opened within my self that allow opportunities beyond the internal. Such saved me, as the stories can say, though this ... this is my Gerard. This is how I have seen him, how I shall see him, and how I will remember him as, even as he moves on - the man that is beyond my own image of what, at one time he represented. The need to carry on. The need to continue in a world that wished to pull, to drag, into the depths - and only a place where we can pull ourselves from.

I have been experimenting with my style as of late, trying to find something new or varied or ... anything. This peice simply happened. I was watching the music video "No Shows" from Gerard's album Hestitant Alien and it ... sparked remembering in me. So, a quick sketch turned into something else and this was born from that. I have no idea what to feel about such, other than ... hollow at what has been expressed.

Don't read too much into it, or you might go blind.

Enjoy.

xxx

Gerard Way/My Chemical Romance/Black Parade to respective owners/selves
Artwork belongs to Me
Reference found off of the horrible black hole that is Google

Do not use, steal, ect.