photoshop

itchy… ̡̢̡̢̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎… ̔̕̚̕̚ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿.re..d! ̡bå̢̡̢̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎.ll.. ̔̕̚̕ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿oons… ̡̢̡̢̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎… ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ̡̢̡̢̛̛̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎… ̔̕̚̕̚҉ ҉̵̞̟̠̖̗̘̙̜̝̞̟̠͇̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̊̋̌̍̎̏̐̑̒̓̔̿̿̿… ͡҉҉

| sandpaperdaisy
pollen is like itchy red balloons in my head.

itchy red balloons by sandpaperdaisy

Foul rag and bone shop cellars

| sandpaperdaisy
ghost tree 002

This quote from Myra Hindley struck me.  (She ripped off Yeats.)  She tried to justify the Moors Murders as an attempt to explore the foul rag and bone shop cellars of her mind.  I found the phrase (and her appropriation of it) to be suitably disgusting for her.

foul rag and bone shop cellars by sandpaperdaisy

Wretched Excuses

| sandpaperdaisy

No collages for the past couple of days due to Life Happening.

Apologetically I offer you Betty White (Golden Girls, Lake Placid, etc) in bondage gear.   This is an original work, done for a friend, and since it does not belong anywhere else it shall have its home here in Mute Elation.

"Thank you for nothing, Officer Fuckmeat." --Betty White, Lake Placid
Obey Betty or suffer the consequences.