I’d like to wear a yellow shirt not spandex just cotton I’ll be wearing a fuscha lip color a color like not like I will be holding a bat not a gun smashing the stage […]
Untitled34 x 46 inches Graphite, charcoal, molding paste, acrylic, watercolor, tempera and ink on paper
Pitter-patter Fallen, wet souls Tapping my shoulder Screaming my name on the window Who’s out there howling, Slowly turning insane?
Division, direction, locality of particles between the world and me. Specifically, Top: containment of hope-churning grey matter. Center: throbbing red solid sensing magnitudes beyond its size. Bottom: appendage, vehicle of particulate movement.