

Creeper1Creeper
The smoke-filled air stunk like tobacco and burning trash. The scent stuck in the back of my nose, lingering chemicals that were waiting in line to poison my body. People huddled around the heat lamps here and there, trying to keep warm. It was tempting even with my hoodie absorbing the warmth and gloves, however fingerless, hugging tightly around my fingers and wrists. My nose ring and checkered shoelaces glowed an eerie purple-white from the light of the full moon and glowsticks, adding a freakish tint, making the things that were lit up look like they were living things, crawling, skittering, e
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:trout:
"wake up, sweetie."
"What, mommy?"
"I SAID DRESS THE FUCK UP"
doodles|commision
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Death is your art. You make it with your hands day after day. That final gasp, that look of peace. And part of you is desperate to know: What's it like?
WHERS DA ART!?
I better see some art up soon!
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Eat to live...Live to eat xD~
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"Hurry up!! I havent got all day!!........Actually I do. Ahahahahaha I've got all the time in the world!!"
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