I'm in love with your soft eyes boring into my hard flesh and I'm in love with your hands, the way your palms rest comfortably against the back of my heart and your fingers enclose it within the pulpy confines of your sturdy fingers, always grasping at the relentless breath escaping my throat.
Read MoreJessie /
My illustration and process of my friend, Jessalyn.
Read MoreWith the Possibility of God /
And inescapably, the sadness returned to the pit of my heart and the emptiness lingered in the pit of my stomach and because I didn’t know how to relinquish such feeling, they became something I learned to live with, like chronic pain you’ve heard there is no treatment for. I had completely forgotten who I was and my early beginnings at forming a relationship with my soul, with nature and with the possibility of God.
Read More#freethenipple, the comic /
The illustration and process for my #freethenipple piece.
Read MoreLove of My Life /
"Pretty sure you were the love of my life." -A.L.
"Why do you say that?"
"I can never stop thinking about you." -A.L.
Persevere /
I will persevere, when your skin cracks open beneath my fingers, when your bones become too brittle to hold you up, when light and dark are indecipherable, when ribbons of your blood weep to the floor threatening to drown us both, I will laugh at the audacity, I will inflate my lungs in defiance and I will hold on, I will persevere.
Read MoreHow, Then, Shall We Live? /
"Clearly our wounds need our attention. But when we concentrate exclusively upon our hurt, we learn to see the brokenness, losses, or injuries we have been given as the most important things in our lives. We cultivate an attention to these wounds in such a way that, over time, they come to occupy the most important place in our heart. Our wound lives in the center of our thoughts. In this way, we actually come to love our suffering." —Wayne Muller
Read MoreMr. O /
Mr. O, a frequent patron of my heart but rarely the subject of my art.
Read MoreHer Hands Will Embrace Your Throbbing Throat /
Her smile will level you
Quite like her big green eyes
Nestled unassumingly behind
Her fluttering lids
But her hands will embrace
Your throbbing throat and squeeze
Until your lips turn blue
And your memories of her
Dissolve into the blinding stench
f dreams unrealized.