driving

Streetlights that rise and set, casting shadows across the landscape of your skin.

elevator

The doors close and there’s a sudden shake
A drop. The feeling of floating
11, 10, 9
Suspended in water, wherein
8, 7, 6
Your body is the crest of a wave, crashing
5, 4, 3
To the ground.

paper ribcage: progress shot

I actually already finished the piece I used this for, but I haven’t taken a photograph of it yet. It took me about 2 hours just to do the ribcage.

Fog; WIP

Something I’m working on. The full poem is Vincenz Serrano’s “Fog”.