HOME | DD

Description
... for in the blood the rooftops would call, composed of ill omens and shallow reachings, poisoning the breath as one tread down below, waiting for the pressured release of the sky. Wingbeats rhytmatic like sins upon the tongue, drawing down demons darkening in shadows reaching, dripping from the cracks to hunt hollow prey, gasglow smiles with their bones left to parade. Predators and dogs transversing the streets, wolves in the clothing of the sheep, wearing rags and disguises wrapped upon their heads, the wool that no one would see. Scarred lips pulling sweetly, singing them their own death's lament, a lullaby for the mark settled with care, waiting for constellations to be brought from their throat. Nothing of purring and little of mercy, wanting something deeper than disease. Mind left to poison with the whims of a job, an assignment never to be rushed. Other thoughts playing to the corners of a mind, thoughts rather of something sweet, something lovely, waiting to kiss him goodnight. Pulled in directions countless, unable to call her his, yet wishing as the sun lowered itself into the horizon's hands and the suspended street ballad started again ...

Featured above is Horror Hare, finding his way above the city streets, a wraith moving without consequence or want - searching for a mark.

I admit to being rather tentative with this piece. It is not very often that I do such ... dynamic depictions.

Enjoy.

xxx

Background composed from [Link] by photodash and [Link] by Selunia

Artwork belongs to Me

Do not steal, use, ect.

Description
... for in the blood the rooftops would call, composed of ill omens and shallow reachings, poisoning the breath as one tread down below, waiting for the pressured release of the sky. Wingbeats rhytmatic like sins upon the tongue, drawing down demons darkening in shadows reaching, dripping from the cracks to hunt hollow prey, gasglow smiles with their bones left to parade. Predators and dogs transversing the streets, wolves in the clothing of the sheep, wearing rags and disguises wrapped upon their heads, the wool that no one would see. Scarred lips pulling sweetly, singing them their own death's lament, a lullaby for the mark settled with care, waiting for constellations to be brought from their throat. Nothing of purring and little of mercy, wanting something deeper than disease. Mind left to poison with the whims of a job, an assignment never to be rushed. Other thoughts playing to the corners of a mind, thoughts rather of something sweet, something lovely, waiting to kiss him goodnight. Pulled in directions countless, unable to call her his, yet wishing as the sun lowered itself into the horizon's hands and the suspended street ballad started again ...

Featured above is Horror Hare, finding his way above the city streets, a wraith moving without consequence or want - searching for a mark.

I admit to being rather tentative with this piece. It is not very often that I do such ... dynamic depictions.

Enjoy.

xxx

Background composed from [Link] by photodash and [Link] by Selunia

Artwork belongs to Me

Do not steal, use, ect.