I am a 22 years old.
I am from North Wales.
I am a 3rd year Contemporary Lens Media student at the University of Lincoln.
I am neurotic.
I am an atheist
I am somewhat of a misanthrope.
I have a keen interest in photography, as well as drawing, music, writing (poems/ songs/ stories, etc), filmmaking and animals.
To be more specific, I love photography that takes you places and has a sense of atmopshere, especially in terms of landscape, but am mostly into portrait photography.
I am into films that manage to be actually about something whilst at the same time not actually having much happen in them.
Any comments on my work will be appreciated. It gives me feedback on my work and allows me to discover new photographers and other artists on this site who’s work I might be interested in.
Feel free to contact me via redbubble or my email at m.d.r@hotmail.co.uk
My Bubblesite
My Film Myspace
My Vimeo
My Soundcloud
My girlfriend’s Redbubble page.
My brother’s Redbubble page.
Matt Roberts hosts ! Creative Writing & Poetry !, Enabled Art, Lincolnshire Art and Welsh Artists and is a member of !* Dark Cabaret *!, *A Beautiful Blur, Art Students and Beginners, Benches, Bridges, Cats and Dogs (1 artwork per day), Dips & Trips (1 per day), For the Love of Cats , 1 image a day , Friends of RedBubble, In Another World .., Livestock in General, Panoramas - 3:1 minimum ratio, Short stories - Spherical Scriptings, Something Fishy, United Kingdom and Windows and Doors.
Posted 5 days ago.
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Posted about 1 month ago.
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The end is nigh is just a simplistic cliché…
He likes to stay out late you see. At least late enough for him to find some shit-faced, bimbo who he can bring back here and have some fun with before disposing of the poor bitch.
I wake up on the floor of my bathroom one last time. I don’t want to move yet still i struggle to my feet.
I’m in the bathroom staring at a stranger in the mirror – the unfamiliarity of the face looking back at me fills me with fear.
I cram the last of the overstuffed black bin bags into the big brown bin outisde my kitchen window before closing the lid.
I find my tools in the boiler room, which sits abreast the cubical-like toilet in my shitty little house, kept in a large sports bag caked in dried blood stains.