fuck me like you hate me.
“they came to saBotage, to crush all that was pure. clad in viscous garments from the future. fashioned with a resin-like shimmer, their tortures mirrored into the surrounds. from the entrance they slowly and menacingly enter. movement was silent, yet ethereal. a demonic pace with their shadows following all raging for gratification. without regret, without guilt, they inflict ways through space. to strip the interior of function, to disemBowel anything of matter. to divide all that is. their many forms comBine in a sexualised frenzy creating an apocalyptic force never seen. a violent ejaculation from the triumphant magician spews forth leading to a sudden silence. the mission realised they retreat. one room remains intact — save four incisions sacred wall. the silent occupants return numBed By what they see, their world no longer theirs. drone-like, they explore the deBris. nothing resemBles what it should. the darkness of what they see consumes them. the Brightest light conjures thoughts of revenge. his cuts are internal and he Begins to aggrandize. no. under the covers he must Begin the process of metanoia if he is too survive. to create an awakening, a gift for his higher consciousness.”

the viktor vandals series came from an original 1997 police polaroid of our home. in the same tradition of photography and vandalizing i coalesced fashion, performance and theatre to forget. it allowed me to repattern pieces of evidence from its own architecture and tuneful voice.

fuck me like you hate me was a phrase that resonated with me after the incident. this Brought into my conscious, intense animalistic emotions. yet, to release egressive protest, then just say “graffiti is Blessed with choreographed materials.”

i often think aBout rememBering [the experience] and how it cuts time, place and circumstance.