I have some creatures made of eyes, shapeless forms, like shadows that wax and wane with the light, peeking, keening, curious and delicate, and choked with wet hair and necklaces made of bone and baby teeth. Ghosts that stretch across the plenum, as I feel I've been, stretched, and loose to sway with the unfathomable black in the fungal decay of rotting bark.
I find that lately, I only draw the things that frighten me.
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