A Little Stone Archive. Definitely Not Ominous Or Anything.

A little stone archive. Definitely not ominous or anything.

Cait! All Pixeled Up. Hat and No Hat (My Art) vs. Reference (Picrew) I’m really happy with this! Eeeeeee

When...

[Trigger Warning: Blood, Violence, Murder Mention]

When will it be her?

Behind the glass, the wheel spins. Every gift it gives is just enough to keep me strung along. Every item wears her scent, reflects her image. 

When will it be her?

Five dozen options, all carved into stone.

Tick, tick, tick.

The symbols are mirrored along the edge of the arena, each one stained and soaked in blood. 

Blood I give for her.

Finally, the wheel settles. 

A beast claws its way out of the red, scraping against stone.

So close.

Its breath is sweetness, its gaze fire. 

I hate it. 

It has been so difficult to stay quiet in my pursuit of love. How many more must go missing? 

It knows I’ll never reject a gift. 

I bring my face to its own. Skull to skull, glare to glare.

How shall it carry my burden?

It’s not enough to drown out the accusations. 

A witch hunt only to be stalled by tricks and honey words.

Plunge him into the water and if he burns it’s...

Murder! Murder! Murder!

I watch my own case from the crowd, breath cold and slow. 

Don’t look.

You won’t like what you see. 

Another drug into the pits. 

Every time my hands shake.

Careful.

Nothing steadies them.

It knows exactly what I need.

I know exactly what it wants. 

Murder! Murder! Murder!

A judge for an injustice. 

A daughter. A son. A wife.

Now a husband.

How many bones need to break?

Red washes over the floor.

The wheel creaks.

It spins.

She’s perfect.

It’s a shame she can’t be real.

My nails sink into the meat of my palm.

I hammer the glass. 

When will it be her?

I need more industrial themed horror in my life me thinks.

Uncanny warning signs, a machine in the heart of a factory that will outlive you and all that you are, a monster that exists only in the shadow of the forge, etc. etc.

Bring back boiler room nests and Osha violations (please push me over the railing)

Warehouse Poetry- 001

Something deep has settled 

And bleeds in me 

And I dont know that I can shake it

Nor that I would ever want to

For without its weight 

I'm not certain I'd ever feel whole 

So can you take my hand 

And rest within me so

Together we can worry for the monster 

I might become 

Bone spaghetti.

Tooth cereal.