This Artist Doesn't Know How To Stop

this artist doesn't know how to stop

also, this artist missed a spelling mistake and now feels like an idiot as well

falling in love with a guy for breaking the rules and taking on great risk to himself in order to protect humanity and then acting surprised when he's willing to give up everything that makes him happy in order to protect humanity

Sleepy demon and fond angel with armchair, Aziraphale is so hard to draw I think

I can't draw anything else anymore

I will never be normal about poetry. I will never be normal about something that can talk of the ocean and the sky and the mind of a young child like it's so much more than you want to believe it is. I have a deep and profound love for the words a poet speaks, no matter how simple. You can ask me what I want to be when I grow up and I'll never tell. I'll hold my breath and shut my eyes and shout "Lawyer, doctor, accountant." until my gums bleed but I'll never profess my desire to write. To create such beautiful sentences with only that of pen and my own mind. I remember being ten years old and circling the last line down in the Lorax. It was the first ever poem I read. and I dove head first into a world that has held me gently ever since. From then on I found art not just in paintings but in the last pages of a book or a poster on the wall or the leaves on the sidewalk. I've been hungry. Desperate for the words of others volition. I consume every single sentence I cannot speak like it's water and I'm thirsty, on my knees begging god for rain. Poetry is like heroin, words shot up into my veins, spouting out into my vocabulary. It's not a talent, it's a virtue. I just write. I must write. I must write the words I hear so often, the ones I rip out of books and keep in my pocket. The ones I save to Pinterest boards as if though to say the physical sense of admiration doesn't stretch past my fingertips and into the screen, soaking up every single pretty thing any writer has ever thought to say. I am desperate for literacy. I'm addicted to pretty words and tearful stories and most of all I am constantly, incessantly, addictively, searching for meaning. To find meaning is to find peace. So I turn to the things that expand most on the duality of life and man to try to figure out what it is that keeps me up at night. I believe that if I read enough poems or write enough stories I can truly find the secret. The secret to living. The secret to whatever it is that keeps us all here, dwindling constantly between life and death and love and heartbreak. I am going to find it. And to do that I must write. I must write. I must write.

Crowley is very in love, also I can't draw shoes.