Stepped outside, only to meet a blank stare from a dead looking sky. A grey kind of light, overcast but dry. The kind of day, we would have stayed, inside. Curled up on that little thing we called our bed.

Wasting a day away, never felt so great. Now I can’t escape the red, fogging up my vision; hate.

I want nothing more than to walk back inside and lay on our bed. But you’re done with me. With we. You moved ahead. I should respect that, but my stomach feels like lead, and I can’t even curl up in my own fucking bed. Without crying out for you.

So fuck you for that, and all the rest.

I’m just trying my best, to just move on.

But when my place of rest, turns to bitter test, of me vs. myself and the memories of us and the nights we lay awake dreaming of less…and more…and how the world could be ours if we’d just reach out and…

But that’s worthless now.

And I’m worthless now.

Too bad you’re not.

And I want nothing more than to burn that bed, but I’m too filled with dread, that when it’s gone, these fading memories will finally leave my head.



Portfolio Link:

Lines? No Lines?

There’s something beautiful in the realization that the absence of pigment can be just as, if not more, impactful than a bold line.

It’s a subtle concept that bleeds into the rest of life. What you don’t say. What you never try. Where you never go. It all says just as much as your deliberate actions.

Not doing something seems to have some sort of negative connotation attached, but I’d argue there are times when not doing something takes strength and courage. Just a thought, though.


Artwork: Scorpio

Concept: For Scorpio, I wanted to depict determination, or heart. It was done in pen and then colored with watercolors and a little bit of white oils. I overlay-ed the text in the same way as the first two (found here:). This one also has a superimposed picture of a radio-tower that I shaped with an eraser to get the abstract effect.

Size: 7×10.2 in. on Watercolor paper.


Thoughts: I really liked how this one turned out. I spent significantly more time on line-work and composition planning than I did for the first two. The model is a loose depiction of Senua, a character from a recent video game: Senua’s sacrifice.

Artwork: Pisces

The second piece of my Zodiac project. After Leo (found here: I really wanted to clean up the line-work and composition. This almost ended up looking a little too clean for the style, I think. This is probably the first time where I’ve had a reverse fore-ground, where the background is so noisy that it draws attention to the undetailed focus of the painting, which is a weird but kinda cool effect. Sorry about my shadow on the bottom of the picture, I have a very dark room and the light is currently out, so I had to use the window!

Concept: Pisces are all about finding that one person who makes them feel whole, there yin or yang, so to speak. To a true Pisces, life may not seem worth living until they find that person or thing that drives them. You know what they say, life was built for two.


The Whimsical Misadventures of Red and Blue (Ep. 1)

Episode 1: Death’s in the Mirror

Blue: Sweetie, don’t look now, but I think love wants us dead.

Red: You don’t say? (she smiled here)

Red: Wait, I see it too, that’s death in the green mini-van, right?

Blue: Yep. (Man, was Blue stony eyed, focused like an eagle)

Red: Well I mean, it had to happen eventually. (Giggle)

Blue: Yip.

Red: Just because love suddenly wants us dead doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with using words that aren’t words.

Blue: *Thinking…. (How best to trigger…)

Red: Okay, bud, death is literally in our fucking rear-view mirror and you’re choosing now to give me the silent treatment? Couldn’t you have done it yesterday, you know when you wouldn’t shut-up about how the particles at the center of a light bulb–

Blue: Yip!

Red: What the fuck! I wasn’t done… (Scrunches face in that cute way that makes Blue wanna flick her cheek)

Red: Hey! Stop flicking my damned cheek!

Blue: K.

10 slow seconds pass as the couple drive down the old 42. Blue notes the rugged and deep cracks whizzing by, trying to focus on individual cracks in detail, but failing each time. Red is seething, furiously slotting her brains available RAM into a single task: realizing a vicious yet sensitive retort to her lesser half. That was it! Her lesser half…perfect!

Red: Blue, before death catches up, I just want you to know that–

Blue: No need to say it, I wish we had time for Pistachio flavored Gelato too, in fact, I distinctly regret not binging on luscious Pistach–

Red: Honey! (Makes a sad face, the one with the faux-puppy dog eyes) Stop interrupting me when we are running from Dea–

Blue: You know, that was kind of rude, dear. I mean I appreciate and support what you have to say, but I was talking. These kinds of lapses in courtesy really grind my gears. Especially when Death is literally in our, and I can not stress this enough, the literal robed-life-snatching-scythe-guy is chasing us in a raggedy green mini-fucking-van.

Red: We should drive faster, shouldn’t we?

Blue: Do you really think we can outrun death?

Red: Yeah, he’s in a min-van.

Blue: Oh, wow. You’re right. Floor it!

And that Red did, floor it, that is. Blue, feeling a sudden rush of confidence, rolled down his window and waggled the center-most flesh-pointer of his right hand at the forlorn-fellow in the green mini-van.

Red: That’s a bit much, what if he makes it hurt more because of that? Wait, oh…shoot.

Blue: Nice going, how are we supposed to outrun death and the law? Especially when the law is in an armored Mustang with a shit-tier paint job?

Red: You gave me the go ahead to do this thing!

Blue: I don’t recall. Wait, don’t slow down! I already lost my licence, what do we do if you get too many points?

Red: Oh shit, you’re right!

As Red slammed on the accelerator, the Law-man, who’d started to pull left, mirrored her wanton acceleration with the vigor and poise befitting a man of his station. 

Blue: Oh shit baby, he’s swerving across traffic! Look Red!

Red: I’m going 98 in a 65, Blue, I can’t look right now!

Blue: !

Red: Why are you waiving your arms around like that?!

Blue: I can’t even right now…Baby, you can slow down.

Red: What? Why?!

Blue: Well death totally just broad-sided the law and the two cars are rolling down a cliff in a brutal and fiery, yet romantic, fashion.

Red: Well…I mean…that doesn’t sound so bad, does it? (Her brow had curled into a thoughtful furrow)

Blue: There are worse ways to go!

Suddenly, without a word, Red swerved left towards the cliff. If only I knew what the cliff meant to her. Maybe, it meant hope. As they fell, a stoic and euphoric haze engulfed the two lovers. Neither had ever felt so utterly complete, let alone content, with their menial lives. 

Wait, no. Actually, it was shit-show.

Blue: OH GOD!! What are you doing Red?! (A look of terror spread across Blue’s pubescent face as the ground disappeared from under the small car) 




Unfortunately, the car’s impact against a jagged rock twice its size robbed Red of the chance to realize the irony of her last sentence. If the meaning of that last sentence wasn’t clear, here is Neil deGrasse Tyson with the details: 

Neil: The unrelenting G-force of the car’s descent through gravity whilst maintaining its significant velocity was met with an equal and opposite reaction from the rock. This collision, of sorts, caused Red’s head to meet the steering wheel with such a force that it immediately caved in, spraying her brain-stuff all over Blue, who miraculously, despite a really nasty sprained ankle, made a full recovery.




You’ll never believe:

Some people break and stay broke,
Some people break then make,
the best of the rest.
Try to put the pieces back,
but the jagged edges stick out,
and cut those who try to help.

Shatter my rotting soul,
Grotesque and festering mold.
I can put them back right.

Bring me that light,
let it pierce my shell; so cold.
Do we need to grow so old?
Just want to do what I’m told.
Tell me.

Blood-Hound (Poem + Drawing)

Blood Hound   —–>PDF with proper formatting, manuscript below. 



I’ll be your sick-bird,
you be my blood-hound,
My hearts in your mouth,
Breaking neck spins round.
You’re not the one to blame,
You see; I can’t complain,
This is all you’ve known.
Blackened bloody mold,
Just doing what you’re told.

Your love was a warhead,
A straight time-bomb,
You taught me this lesson,
That I ain’t so strong.
Take your pound of flesh,
Don’t matter if it’s right,
Hit me while I’m fresh,
You know I’ll never fight,
As long as you let me,
Love you more than this life.

So here’s to that jaw,
Tightening ‘round me,
I’m just your dead-bird,
So be my blood-hound,
‘Cause baby,
You’re the one with teeth.
And all I am is meat.


7×11 cut watercolor, Pen and marker. Edited fox

Quotes of a Cynic #22

I’m about to go for a run, and when I do, I’ll imagine a purpose for the movement. I like to think that one day, when I get fast enough, strong enough, and the breaths come easily, that I can run at a pace to a place no-one can trace the past remnants of me. A place where I’m enough, a place where I can just be, in peace.


Finding Happy: Chapter 2-A Long Way Back

Chronologically, this is the fifth chapter, but three of those are marked as introduction. It’s less confusing in the manuscript, but in this post-style format it’s worth mentioning.

Casey wakes up after the catastrophic events of the night before, and her memory is gone. This, for now, is probably a blessing, as the truth is much worse than she suspects.

You can start at the beginning here, if you so choose:



A Long Way Back

November 1st 2018


Everything hurts so damn much. It’s cold. Where…Where am I? What happened last night? Casey rolled right, blinking rapidly to un-blur her dry vision. A sea of violent greens and mountainous browns focused into a sharp anxiety, as Casey registered where she was, and more importantly; where she was not. How did I get to the dump? God that smell. Groaning, she attempted to push her knees under her slight frame, and failed. My stomach…It feels like I got shot, like there’s a hole in my abdomen. She rolled onto her back and examined herself. Where are my fucking clothes! She wore nothing but athletic shorts and her white bra, the strapless one she liked. Sighing in frustration she leaned her head back, looking to the overcast sky. Wait…It’s cloudy but the sun is up. Fuck! Mom is going to flay me alive!

Scrambling, Casey searched for her phone. Why is it not in my pockets, what the fuck! She looked around frantically, desperately searching for her hand-held salvation. There! About five feet to her right lay her phone, damp in the dew-lidden grass. Still sore, she opted to crawl instead of try to stand again. Grunting in effort, she reached the phone and held it to her face. Why is it cracked? What’s going on! I just got this for my birthday last month too. The phone unlocked with a satisfying ‘click’, recognizing her face. At least it still works.

Dreading what lay in wait, Casey tapped the ‘Messages+’ application. Okay. Thirty-seven texts from Mom, eight texts from Matt, two from Ally, and a message from an unknown number. That could have been worse, I guess. She tapped the frame that read ‘Mom <3’ and her heart fell into her stomach. Shit, she’s worried sick. I really fucked up. Why did I go to that stupid party? Quickly, she tapped the ’info’ button in the top right of the phone before pressing ‘Call this number’. Frightened from guilt and confusion, she brought the cracked phone to her ear and listened.





“Casey! Where are you sweetie?!” her mother half-shouted. She froze in anxiety, like a deer staring at her oncoming demise. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, sweetie. Please! Just say something so I know your alive!” Why isn’t she mad? I’ve never heard her like this…

Casey opened her mouth and tried to apologize, but all that came out was a mortified, “Uh…”

“What’s wrong, Casey?!” asked her mom, shouting again.

“I’m okay, I think. I just…I woke up out here and it hurts…and…” answered Casey, pausing as everything caught up with her. “I don’t know how I got here, mom. I think something bad happened but I can’t remember anythi–“ Casey choked on the last word as anxious tears overwhelmed her. Everything’s spinning out of control.

Panicked, her mom cut in, “Please sweetie, don’t cry, it’s going to be just fine, you’ll see. Please tell me where you are so I can come get you. Do you know where you are?”

Struggling to speak over the viscous dread rapidly metastasizing, Casey choked, “I’m out b…by the old dump. The one a mile out from Apple-Creek farms, that w…wealthy neighborhood.”

Voice cracking, her mom replied, “Okay. I’m coming, stay where you are, sweetie, it’ll be okay.”


Thanks for reading!

More coming soon.