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Description
...Someone somewhere is singing a song, someone somewhere is always singing a song, but it's not here and it's never now. So be quiet. Even if you wanted it it can't be heard--even if you sang it it wouldn't fill the void.
So hush. Stand up. Hold your tongue and taste the blood, let it slide back down your throat to where it belongs.
You have no voice. Do you hear me?
Look at me--don't look away. Blood on the ground, blood in your mouth, your blood on my hand, my hand on your mouth--
Don't ask me what it means. It doesn't mean a thing. Shut up and listen to me--

--Don't sing.

Stand , Angel Dust
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An illustration to go along with one of the pieces I wrote on AD, Stand . (Though I guess it can also resemble a scene from Swan Song ...) I'm hoping to do a lot more of these, because I really like drawing beat-up boys want to be able to paint the scenes in my head, even if I can never quite match with pixels or paint what I can accomplish with words.

Also, yeah, guess who finally tried out the pencil tool in Photoshop. Surprise! It looks EXACTLY like my oekaki work, woohoo!
(I'm... doomed to use this tool for the rest of my life... ;-; )

Ian, from Angel Dust .
AD - Stand Don't look at me like that.
I wasn't the one who cut the paws off the lion.  I wasn't the one who put my hands on your back and shoved, though maybe there was my boot on your back, that one time, just once, perhaps.  But I didn't push you off the edge--no, you know it wasn't me.  You were the one with your toes curled over the edge, looking down, leaning too far, vertigo in your throat--
Don't confuse me with gravity.

What did you lose, down there in the deep?  What did you let slip, that you fell so hard after, seeking to find?
A wing, a word?  A name though you could not call it your own
Concrete texture from: [link]

Description
...Someone somewhere is singing a song, someone somewhere is always singing a song, but it's not here and it's never now. So be quiet. Even if you wanted it it can't be heard--even if you sang it it wouldn't fill the void.
So hush. Stand up. Hold your tongue and taste the blood, let it slide back down your throat to where it belongs.
You have no voice. Do you hear me?
Look at me--don't look away. Blood on the ground, blood in your mouth, your blood on my hand, my hand on your mouth--
Don't ask me what it means. It doesn't mean a thing. Shut up and listen to me--

--Don't sing.

Stand , Angel Dust
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An illustration to go along with one of the pieces I wrote on AD, Stand . (Though I guess it can also resemble a scene from Swan Song ...) I'm hoping to do a lot more of these, because I really like drawing beat-up boys want to be able to paint the scenes in my head, even if I can never quite match with pixels or paint what I can accomplish with words.

Also, yeah, guess who finally tried out the pencil tool in Photoshop. Surprise! It looks EXACTLY like my oekaki work, woohoo!
(I'm... doomed to use this tool for the rest of my life... ;-; )

Ian, from Angel Dust .
AD - Stand Don't look at me like that.
I wasn't the one who cut the paws off the lion.  I wasn't the one who put my hands on your back and shoved, though maybe there was my boot on your back, that one time, just once, perhaps.  But I didn't push you off the edge--no, you know it wasn't me.  You were the one with your toes curled over the edge, looking down, leaning too far, vertigo in your throat--
Don't confuse me with gravity.

What did you lose, down there in the deep?  What did you let slip, that you fell so hard after, seeking to find?
A wing, a word?  A name though you could not call it your own
Concrete texture from: [link]