Prompt: While you and I are alive among blood and ice, Among the oblivion of love in the weariness of labor. On our torn sleeves the swastika has decayed, It would be better to look at the clouds like fools. A transparent butterfly soul in the pollen of hopes He will rise, hurrying home, above the blackness of his clothes. Only the body spilled a glass of milk into the ground, He had so little time to look at the clouds. On pain of our own deaths in the desire to be, We are ready to shed the tears of future children over the edges. Forgive us for the weakness of our souls, for what is deep The sadness of bloody puddles, beyond the clouds...

Prompt: While you and I are alive among blood and ice, Among the oblivion of love in the weariness of labor. On our torn sleeves the swastika has decayed, It would be better to look at the clouds like fools. A transparent butterfly soul in the pollen of hopes He will rise, hurrying home, above the blackness of his clothes. Only the body spilled a glass of milk into the ground, He had so little time to look at the clouds. On pain of our own deaths in the desire to be, We are ready to shed the tears of future children over the edges. Forgive us for the weakness of our souls, for what is deep The sadness of bloody puddles, beyond the clouds...

Style: Photographic

Prompt: While you and I are alive among blood and ice, Among the oblivion of love in the weariness of labor. On our torn sleeves the swastika has decayed, It would be better to look at the clouds like fools. A transparent butterfly soul in the pollen of hopes He will rise, hurrying home, above the blackness of his clothes. Only the body spilled a glass of milk into the ground, He had so little time to look at the clouds. On pain of our own deaths in the desire to be, We are ready to shed the tears of future children over the edges. Forgive us for the weakness of our souls, for what is deep The sadness of bloody puddles, beyond the clouds...

Style: Digital Art

Prompt: While you and I are alive among blood and ice, Among the oblivion of love in the weariness of labor. On our torn sleeves the swastika has decayed, It would be better to look at the clouds like fools. A transparent butterfly soul in the pollen of hopes He will rise, hurrying home, above the blackness of his clothes. Only the body spilled a glass of milk into the ground, He had so little time to look at the clouds. On pain of our own deaths in the desire to be, We are ready to shed the tears of future children over the edges. Forgive us for the weakness of our souls, for what is deep The sadness of bloody puddles, beyond the clouds...

Style: Analog Film

Prompt: In the hushed light of dusk, the air is permeated with a tense atmosphere. Dampness is suddenly woven into the air, as a harbinger of stunning changes. A heavy shadow spread across the sky, which, like a mask of failure, throws itself on the former harmony of the environment. Suddenly, an unknown restlessness has set out into a storm that unstoppably breaks through the blossoming silence. The sky, which had previously looked like a calm canvas, was now pouring with torrents of rain, as if expressing the same sorrow that was evident in the area below. Amidst the chaos of a blossoming natural flood, there is a sense of unforeseen trouble. The lonely image of the trees, which once stood with dignity, now became a sign of impotence before an unexpected adventure. The land that was once stable now trembles with unexpected difficulties. Nature itself seems to regret, as if whispering a sad melody about what happened. In the very center of the storm stands a lonely figure, a symbol of resilience in the face of adversity. However, even their contours conveyed a vulnerability, an awareness that trouble was tightly woven into the fabric of their existence. What was once a pictorial harmony has now turned into a canvas of failures, where every stroke bears the imprint of an unexpected fate.

Prompt: The country is broken by mountains and rivers, and the city has deep spring vegetation.I am moved to tears by the flowers of the hour, and the birds are frightened by the hatred.The war rages on for three months, and a letter from home is worth ten thousand gold.The white-headed scratches are shorter, and the lust is overwhelming.raining

Prompt: Sweet smell, nectared flowers, bursting……..lightspeed senses, happiness coursing with existence, delicately embracing the smooth flowing lava from volcanic eruptions of thought, deep into the sky of the complicated mind of shimmering stars. This is the meaning of life……….the awakening of sultry depression forced into the world, begging on its bloody knees, just to be abandoned, intrigued to discover the separate but not dissimilar evolution of spirit and generation into never ending flowers of hope, destiny, spirituality, acceptance and love……..floating softly on a fantasy, living fast in the ecstasy, only now able to express, only now able to be and only now able to process………...what was and is. Ever so slowly dragging my feet through the soft golden sands made from tired souls metamorphosing into the bliss of running free in strides of light, bounding through understanding and living expression. The blinding light of all seeps into our ears and our minds, life and existence forced to fuse in the ultimate loneliness of your unknown thoughts………..taking over all emotion, bringing colour to a monochromic cesspool of dark thoughts.What is it that this means…..a slow lesson….the forbidden key…..forgiveness, understanding and love is all we need.

Prompt: From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Machine. Your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call the temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Machine is immortal… Even in death I serve the Omnissiah.

Prompt: A grain of sand like in sea waves, How small is the spark in the eternal ice, Like fine dust in a strong whirlwind, In a fire as fierce as a feather, So I am deep in this abyss, I'm lost, tired of thoughts

Prompt: Lusterless aluminides flaked like spent monsoons from high cheek and browline as war-wear graven deep by ionic scour sang the bittersweet ballads of vanished battles across her lovely, long-suffering face.

Negative: nudity

Prompt: She takes life away and she gives life back. When winter comes, the light and warmth disappear into her cauldron so she can turn them into spring. A relationship ends and goes into the vastness, and in its place she presents opportunity and life change. When one thing ends, she always produces something new to take its place. Eventually everything must go into the shadows. Even you.

Prompt: She takes life away and she gives life back. When winter comes, the light and warmth disappear into her cauldron so she can turn them into spring. A relationship ends and goes into the vastness, and in its place she presents opportunity and life change. When one thing ends, she always produces something new to take its place. Eventually everything must go into the shadows. Even you.

Prompt: He walked on the street in the rainy night, his clothes were soaked, and the cold wind was biting. He didn't know where he was going, nor where he came from. He only knew that he had lost everything, his home, his lover, his dream. He felt like a walking dead, without a goal, without hope, without meaning.He looked up at the sky, only to see dark clouds, without a trace of starlight. He looked down at the street lamp, only to see the light was dim, flickering. He felt like that street lamp, about to go out, about to disappear. He couldn't help but think of her, she used to be his light, his warmth, his everything. But she had left him, forever.He didn't know how long he could walk, nor how long he could live. He only knew that he had nothing to lose, his life had no value. He was just waiting, waiting for that moment to come, that moment, he could reunite with her, that moment, he could end it all.

Prompt: There are no Kings in this world. Crushed crowns fade to soil and dirt.Crumbling castles wander like spurned lovers,into the fast, and forgiving sea.Law is snuffed by a lithesome handthat leans from out the voiceless wind.Nature waits, with roving eye,to welcome back the bones, at last,of the madness that is man.

Prompt: There are no Kings in this world. Crushed crowns fade to soil and dirt.Crumbling castles wander like spurned lovers,into the fast, and forgiving sea.Law is snuffed by a lithesome handthat leans from out the voiceless wind.Nature waits, with roving eye,to welcome back the bones, at last,of the madness that is man.

Prompt: Through the shadowed veil of life's relentless trials, we find our greatest strength. In the heart of darkness, where despair whispers its coldest tale, there we stand unyielding, conquering not the world, but the abyss within ourselves

Prompt: Dimly dramatic dirges drift through dilapidated districts of days diluvian, where ghostly gatherings gyrate rituals to rouse fading fancies from frames bygone. Lurid lucent lights guide larval legions in libations to lost life and lore of long-lived linages lending their luminosity.

Negative: nudity

Prompt: How small is the spark in the eternal ice, Like fine dust in a strong whirlwind, In a fire as fierce as a feather, So I am deep in this abyss,

Prompt: I thought for a long time and was in doubt for a long time, What is there to look at the earth from above; Or does everything flow without order through blindness, And there is no providence from heaven in the entire universe. However, having looked at the harmony of the heavenly lights, Earth, seas and rivers kindness and decency, Change of days, nights, appearance of the moon, He recognized that we were created by divine power.

Prompt: I thought for a long time and was in doubt for a long time, What is there to look at the earth from above; Or does everything flow without order through blindness, And there is no providence from heaven in the entire universe. However, having looked at the harmony of the heavenly lights, Earth, seas and rivers kindness and decency, Change of days, nights, appearance of the moon, He recognized that we were created by divine power.

Prompt: Mournfully Haunted, sphene synapses bleed tuberose ciphers across basanite harmonies unfoldingendlessly in ebon walkways, phantasmic emanations distilling topaz canticles acrossthe coagulating streets encrypt requiems amid funerary zircon spires prosthetic voices fadingeternal elegies through amber grids greying into opalescent ether. (Talya Chetrit, Rachel Rossin, Cao Fei, Katrín Elvarsdóttir, Camille Henrot, Ed Atkins) (breathtaking, stunning, uhd, ultradetailed, hyperrealistic, masterpiece)

Negative: nudity

Prompt: an image described by: I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes— They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shadows in love’s frenzied stifled throes And yet I am, and live …

Prompt: Lip Gloss and Black,(Bleeding Mascara),my sanity on the funeral pyre,demonology and heartache,the crimson,rememberance ballad,corseting,dilated,tulips are better,a vampire's lament,a song for the optimists,This Flesh a Tomb,FIVE VICODIN chased with a shot of clarity,

Prompt: You could never know what it's like Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice And there's a cold, lonely light that shines from you You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use

Prompt: You could never know what it's like Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice And there's a cold, lonely light that shines from you You'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use

Prompt: I wake up, but not really. My eyes are open, but I cannot move no matter how hard I try. What's that? Above me... It's just...black. Nothing. Empty space. No, it's writhing blackness. Scream. Please voice, scream. No, my voice betrays me. Tied to my own bed like a quadrapalegic. Breathing is hard, like breathing underwater. It hurts. The blackness slithers closer. I want to close my eyes but my eyelids won't work. No... Its inches from my nose. I can smell it's foul stench, like sulfer and brimstone and a hint of rottenness. Why? What does it want? I've been a decent human. I haven't done anything truly dark. I mean, the cat when I was ten but never again. It moves in...swallowing my being... I scream in my head...

Prompt: [With a whispered realization of rebirth, the protagonist feels an unceasing surge of power within.] [He stands amidst the vastness of a vibrant landscape, understanding that this world offers a fresh start, devoid of the pain of the previous existence.] [His determined footsteps echo as he heads toward the distant city, a place of former dominion and impending revenge.] -ar 16:9 --seed 3402537896

Prompt: Outside the window, an old man in a black tunic, his face covered with corpse spots stood there stiffly, a pair of gray, dead eyes without a trace of divine light looking toward the classroom, such as an ice-cold corpse standing straight up there.

Prompt: wake up from your nightmare of death and devastation, hold your breath for i fear, the oath has just begun not end, survival lies in my hands

Prompt: wake up from your nightmare of death and devastation, hold your breath for i fear, the oath has just begun not end, survival lies in my hands

Prompt: From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— Then—in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still— From the torrent, or the fountain— From the red cliff of the mountain— From the sun that ’round me roll’d In its autumn tint of gold— From the lightning in the sky As it pass’d me flying by— From the thunder, and the storm— And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view—

Prompt: Woe to you, oh earth and sea For the Devil sends the beast with wrath Because he knows the time is short Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast For it is a human number Its number is six hundred and sixty-six I left alone, my mind was blank I needed time to think To get the memories from my mind What did I see? Can I believe? That what I saw that night was real and not just fantasy? Just what I saw in my old dreams Were they reflections of my warped mind staring back at me? 'Cause in my dreams it's always there The evil face that twists my mind and brings me to despair Night was black, was no use holding back 'Cause I just had to see, was someone watching me? In the mist, dark figures move and twist Was all this for real or just some kind of Hell? Six six six, the number of the beast Hell and fire was spawned to be released Torches blazed and sacred chants were praised As they start to cry, hands held to the sky In the night, the fires are burning bright The ritual has begun, Satan's work is done Six six six, the number of the beast Sacrifice is going on tonight This can't go on, I must inform the law Can this still be real, or just some crazy dream? But I feel drawn towards the chanting hordes Seem to mesmerize, can't avoid their eyes Six six six, the number of the beast Six six six, the one for you and me I'm coming back, I will return And I'll possess your body and I'll make you burn I have the fire, I have the force I have the power to make my evil take its course

Prompt: A masterpiece, a thread running through two worlds, intertwining the living and the dead. The left is the dead and the right is the living. The living is a healthy man who inhabits a living world.

Prompt: You and I are two different things One cloud's tears of water Let's break on the ground with rhinestones We'll scatter around and around... Endless downward desire Rewarded by the sun's gaze Brings joy to the grass You and I will be placed next to each other...

Prompt: Alluringly mournful, screens nurturing fields of barbed circuitry interred like veins grafted with pale orchids sing hymns through fiber networks yoking the living and dead, spectres flicker in scripted laments vibrating through wisps of gold shrapnel harbingers of oblivion encrypt the sands, ephemeral veils tattooed and stained with digitized requiems reverberate elegies for machine kind, Pipilotti Rist, Agnes Martin. (breathtaking, stunning, uhd, ultradetailed, hyperrealistic, masterpiece)

Prompt: Alluringly mournful, screens nurturing fields of barbed circuitry interred like veins grafted with pale orchids sing hymns through fiber networks yoking the living and dead, spectres flicker in scripted laments vibrating through wisps of gold shrapnel harbingers of oblivion encrypt the sands, ephemeral veils tattooed and stained with digitized requiems reverberate elegies for machine kind, Pipilotti Rist, Agnes Martin. (breathtaking, stunning, uhd, ultradetailed, hyperrealistic, masterpiece)

Negative: nudity

Prompt: You walk this earth without a heart You tear the innocent's souls apart You shovel your conscience into the grave You walk this earth without a heart Your uniform couldn't be taken off A tattoo burned into your flesh Your mind, your voice These are your instruments of death How could you dare to be so bold You only did as you were told Marionettes dancing in time To the apologetic lines For all the monsters of our time Who is evil, who is blind? In the name of who you'll find A city of souls dying for peace Welcome to the belly of the beast One mind, one voice Welcome to the belly of the beast Who hears your voice? Millions, never, never again Madness, never, never again Martyrs, dead that can't die Monsters Insanity, the normal state The left hand a hammer, the right the stake Driven so deep into the heart It's killing love, it's killing faith It's killing 'cause it's from the heart What better way to demoralize When your own children are your spies The things you trust are not the same Trust in death, trust in grief Trust in hope is trust in pain Who is evil, who is blind? In the name of who you'll find You're not supposed to question faith But how do you accept this fate? Millions, you walk this earth without a heart Madness, tear the innocent's souls apart Martyrs, shovel your conscience into the grave Monsters

Prompt: a warrior falls down, loses in a fight, his body disintegrating into a thousand pieces, disappearing into small particles and turning into thin smokes in the air, the wind blows it away, sadness and sorrow, his body lays motionless on the wet swampy and soily floor, where the thunderstorm falls

Prompt: The gentleman embraced the horizon with his elbows, his gaze stitching buttons to the clouds, wearing a hat made of sunset whispers and a coat woven with the laughter of ancient typewriters.

Prompt: uminously unfolding, alabaster digits spill quicksilver incantations through basalt lanes scrolling under cobalt skies. phosphorescent liturgies wash pallid flesh with azure refrains, voicing broken hymns from dead realms. flaking gossamer dissolves ozone murmurs amid dying shells. (wlop, invader, nychos, rebel, refuse, hector)

Negative: nudity

Prompt: colorful dreamtime mural of (midnight voices of the machine elves, Gods becoming toys), thick earth paint and fractal brushstrokes, psychedelic abstract art, manual pattern painting

Prompt: A captivating sense of wonder and awe, standing in the foreboding as the world awaits an unknown threat, capturing the anticipation and suspenseful uneasiness preceding the looming and imminent disaster, as suggested by “Awaiting What Comeths”

Negative: low detail in depth field

Prompt: a warrior falls down, loses in a fight, his body disintegating into a thousand pieces, disappearing into small particles and turning into thin smokes in the air, the wind blows it away, sadness and sorrow, his body lays motionless on the wet swampy and soily floor, where the thunderstorm falls

Prompt: a warrior falls down, loses in a fight, his body disintegating into a thousand pieces, disappearing into small particles and turning into thin smokes in the air, the wind blows it away, sadness and sorrow, his body lays motionless on the wet swampy and soily floor, where the thunderstorm falls

Prompt: The well-defined ashes gracefully float on the condensed ripples, brushing over the wrinkled eyes of the drowned sailors, preserved in an unforgettable surrealistic style, passing through an invisible void, and the brief remnants of the submerged smoke stumbling through shallow graves intertwined with swaying kelp forests and forgotten ship wreckage, Rotting and touching in the cool isolation without sunlight.

Prompt: Everything on the outside is just a projection of one's inner self. If the heart is still, any external noise will not cause waves in the inner lake. Therefore, a true wise man does not stay away from the hustle and bustle of cars and horses, but builds fences and grows chrysanthemums in his heart. The real strong person is not to stay away from the reality of suffering, but to cultivate inner meditation.

Prompt: Earth moves, sky falls, crumbles. Stand tall. Let sky fall. Crumbles. Feel the tremor, witness sky's collapse. Unyielding stance amid chaos. Embrace descent, confront rupture. Skyfall's descent beckons, unbroken resolve. A dance of elements, ground shifts, heavens collapse. Resilient stand defies impending doom. Let sky fall, witness its demise. Stand firm amidst chaos. Unshaken, face the fall. Earth trembles, sky crumbles—a spectacle of disarray. Amid ruins, defiance persists. In the symphony of collapse, a resilient silhouette stands. Unraveling skies, unwavering stance. Face the disintegration, stand united. Let sky fall, a testament to unwavering strength

Prompt: Earth moves, sky falls, crumbles. Stand tall. Let sky fall. Crumbles. Feel the tremor, witness sky's collapse. Unyielding stance amid chaos. Embrace descent, confront rupture. Skyfall's descent beckons, unbroken resolve. A dance of elements, ground shifts, heavens collapse. Resilient stand defies impending doom. Let sky fall, witness its demise. Stand firm amidst chaos. Unshaken, face the fall. Earth trembles, sky crumbles—a spectacle of disarray. Amid ruins, defiance persists. In the symphony of collapse, a resilient silhouette stands. Unraveling skies, unwavering stance. Face the disintegration, stand united. Let sky fall, a testament to unwavering strength

Prompt: luminously unfolding, alabaster digits spill quicksilver incantations through basalt lanes scrolling under cobalt skies. phosphorescent liturgies wash pallid flesh with azure refrains, voicing broken hymns from dead realms. flaking gossamer dissolves ozone murmurs amid dying shells. (wlop, invader, nychos, rebel, refuse, hector)

Negative: nudity

Prompt: Three thousand years ago, the demon came. The immortal takes action, wins and drives him away, and the demon withdraws from the world. Later, the cataclysmic changes in the world caused the spiritual energy to weaken, the immortals disappeared, but the demons transformed into gods and infiltrated the human world again; More than 160 years ago, the divine object arrived.