Note just for you watchers: I might be busy doing other stuff so ... Good luck waiting on more drawings from me! >O<
Oh and I edit A LOT! So bare with me! >_< I have pet-peeves.
Hello everyone! I do not know what to say about myself right now. But all I can say, is that I love to draw! I usually draw pictures that matches songs I listen to or encounter along the way in Youtube. All rights go to the artists for writing those songs. Sometimes, I draw pictures that matches stories I come up in my head or just for plain fun.
Reason for name:
Gale = Wind. My favorite elemental.
Spider = My favorite character from any game. (From Megaman X: Command Mission)
Kiss the SunSunlight kisses
through lobby windows
across old furniture
and yellow-and-green carpet.
and mare's tails,
whisper of more good to come -
dry days are ahead.
I see you and I see light
making these simple things
out of darkness
and when the sun kisses my eyes
I want to kiss it back,
and I do,
with head full
and eyes richly speaking.
You've said things I remember
and I've said things I remember
but I remember most when words
was spoken through
light beams and darkness.
tick tockthis bitter taste in my mouth—
it's a dying fire,
and the ashes are lingering on my tongue.
i wake up each morning with shadows beneath my eyes.
dark bruises that hide everything with a flourish
yet reveal all to anyone who looks close enough.
the girl in the mirror is my enemy;
her smile isn't all there and
it is painted like a doll's, but not nearly
as beautiful and enchanting.
i get the feeling that if i clench my fists tight enough,
time will stop.
but i know the gears of the clock that is wedged painfully
inside of my rib cage will continue to grind slowly and
sluggishly, because while i am not as broken as i once was i am
(and i never will be) forever whole again.
undefined[---404 error: file not found---]
I am undefined
like the irrational variables
that rot your computer;
never quite fitting into the
neatly arranged arrays
that fragment this world
congregations of 1s and 0s,
(the DNA between
my ribs does not
conform to your primal
[—503 eror: server overload—]
I am undefined,
an error in excess
desperately trying to exit
this (in)finite loop of
on-off signals that
my delicate newtork of
UnclearThe picture is framed in lakeside mists,
We're swathed in blankets
And chuckling about how
We look like Scottish immigrants,
And groaning and grinning,
Because we aren't morning people.
The sun creeps over a sapphire hill
And lights the water on fire
We sit and sigh
Our bare feet tucked up
On the cold wooden pier,
And I fit exactly beneath your arm.
The scene is utterly clear
Shining like the morning;
I look up into your face,
But I don't know what I expected
Because that part
Is not so clear.
FFM 06 - Progress in ActionThe chambermaids cleaned and disinfected the tank with lye again, and Spencer took a moment to collect himself before squeezing the magnifying monocle back into his right eye. He had gone over the machine a dozen times, but he would go over it a dozen-and-one if that’s what it took. Every little brass bolt was properly tightened, and every hose was sealed exactly as it needed to be, connected to a variety of vials and beakers. The electrical coils were fully charged from the previous night’s thunderstorm, and all of his thermometers and barometers assured him that the steam pump was properly simulating the temperature and pressure of a human womb… and yet, somehow the tank could not sustain life. He tried not to think too much about the failed attempts, nor the tiny, cold bodies that he had sent off to the morgue over the past months. A scientist had to focus on the present, and the task at hand.
A bell chimed, and he raised his head to w
deaf girl dancingshe cannot hear the music, only see it
and her body sways in waves,riding
the crest of the movement,
she can feel the music in the rhythm
of other people's bodies, jostling and turning,
spinning and swirling, glimmering and burning,
she can read the movement,
tell what the music she cannot hear means
just by the language
of two dozen bodies rocking themselves
into an orchestra of movement.
she cannot hear the music, but
she can feel it, in the way
her body twirls, the way her supple limbs
chase trails of sound that are beyond her grasp,
in the beat of her heart echoing in her ribcage
and her feet, moving to something beyond her
a voice that she will never hear that still calls her.
she responds to silence with her body,
defying limits, refusing to be a stony-eyed silence.
in her life, music is movement, is
joints creaking and hips speaking and
strange breathing, because
she was raised to take the things she could reach
instead of stubbing her toes
by trying to grasp what she couldn't.