Perforate the Veil of the Madness

Descend and submerge yourself into its Abyss.

This place bleeds ink and confessions. On every page, a mirror shard reflects fragments of my splintered soul. Between ruled lines and coffee stains, I’ve scattered breadcrumbs of my existence—fears that wake me at 3 AM, secrets that taste like ash, thoughts that circle like vultures waiting for weakness.

The paper doesn’t judge. It absorbs—like a priest behind the confessional screen.

I started as a collector of other people’s pain. A curator of borrowed tragedies. My pen became a dowsing rod, drawn to the tremor of hands, the tilt of shoulders, the way eyes scan for exits. I wrote for the silenced, the burdened, the broken.

But stories turn on their tellers. In chasing others’ demons, I met my own. Each character’s darkness began to take on a familiar quality. Their wounds matched scars I thought were buried.

I thought I was writing about them. I wasn’t.

I am both a cartographer and a territory. These pages map the chaos I carry. I make patterns from static and poetry from screams. A simple man with a pen, and the audacity to believe it’s enough.

Madness awaits…
Choose an image, step into the portal, and begin your journey into madness.