|A quick glance at a few things in my gallery. It's not the greatest, but take a look if you'd like.|
He’s been a patron at the hospital for so long, none of the staff recalls ever checking him in, why he’s there, or what his affliction is. In fact, no records of him even exist in the facility’s records.
Patient -1 permanently occupies one of the rooms, receiving no attention or care from anyone. Despite this, he continues to go on living in this place. His vitals never show signs of waning or fluctuating, even with no sustenance or nourishment, year after year after decade. He lays in his bed all day, completely motionless and expressionless aside from the steady, methodical rise and fall of his abdomen beneath his curiously bloodstained bedsheets as he breathes, seemingly stoic and content in his silent, yet foreboding existence.
Perhaps the most unsettling aspect about Patient -1 is his face, or lack thereof. In place of any normal features is a hole, filled with nothing but infinite blackness, almost seeming to expand and lengthen beyond the expanse of his skull, creating the illusion (or is it really an illusion?) of an endless abyss. A weak, yellow light shines in the back, like the beacon of an oncoming train in the twilight.
Few have dared to investigate the physical or scientific properties of this gaping hole on Patient -1’s person, but the few who have been brave enough to take a closer look have reported sounds of howling winds, intermittently harmonized with what appears to be the vague and ghostly humming of some unrecognizable, indistinguishable tune.
I'm an artist (as some people call me, I guess) who draws whatever the fuck he wants when he feels like it and doesn't afraid of anything.|
Basically, if you're friends with me, your life is pretty interesting.
If you want to keep up with everything that I'm doing, follow me on FunnyJunk; I'm not here much anymore.