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hell's spires hath pierced me

@metamorphoseos.bsky.social

November 28, 2025 at 11:31 PM

hell's spires hath pierced me

@metamorphoseos.bsky.social

okay i'm having fun sharing old art so whatever here's more

shoulder-cropped shot from the back of a person with short hair looking to the left, eyes closed

sketchy portrait of a person's head looking ahead

portrait of a person looking at the viewer, almost connecting eyes

November 28, 2025 at 11:27 PM

hell's spires hath pierced me

@metamorphoseos.bsky.social

old 2 second ipad dood when i was trying to figure out how procreate works

November 28, 2025 at 11:13 PM

hell's spires hath pierced me

@metamorphoseos.bsky.social

bug (mouse noodles)

November 28, 2025 at 11:09 PM

hell's spires hath pierced me

@metamorphoseos.bsky.social

had to fix smth. anyway i was too shy to share the full scribble last time but here u go

$Beached along table sprawl intestinal pearls wreathed like streamers rolling and pooling over wooden edge. Fish-rot dreams of the open tide, glittering wet across the placemats drying rapidly under the summer sun; foolhardy, inchoate, dead desire suffocated by the clinking of furnishments, a placation here, an apology there, odious and untrusting. Weren't that I, four days dead an endless well, a fountain to soothe your raging wastes, to tame your deserts to push back the encroaching abyss with my sweet waters, free of algal blooms, those doomsday tolls, and become something new again through every dipped hand and swollen tongue. I begin to divide myself into radials, a pound of flesh for every scream, the tide haplessly tugging upon my fractured body. You say I am without worth, and sorry, and my stomach bloats, the table trembles. I could be a bird in another life rather than collapsing under all this weight of myself, drowning in dreams; my wings carrying me over the oceans. I could be the arm of a root to some great old tree, embraced by a thousand others, an anchored vascularity. The glass hits the wall and splinters wicked scythe of night, sweeping over the valleys and channels, light a toss of fractals each face a projection of possibility, jagged and razor edged, all destined for the wastebin, all discarded, all swallowed in oxygen-rich flames, all ground down to an even grit, evenly dispersed along the web of infinity, unrecognizable.$

November 28, 2025 at 5:53 PM

hell's spires hath pierced me

@metamorphoseos.bsky.social

we're cooking up some BULL SH*T !!

$the glass hits the wall and splinters wicked scythe of night, sweeping over the valleys and channels, light a toss of fractals each face a projection of possibility, jagged and razor edged, all destined for the wastebin, all discarded, all swallowed in oxygen-rich flames, all ground down to an even grit, evenly dispersed along the web of infinity, unrecognizable$

November 28, 2025 at 6:32 AM