"it just isn't fair" they say, but the Sun knows patterns like the Moon knows change.
Our world is a spinning wheel, we play, somewhere, on repeat. In every universe you will knock on the village gates, in every past universe I have let you in. Foolish, misguided, doomed, as we all are, to run in circles in the night until dawn breaks.
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if partner not edible why tasty?
anyway i only care about the lineart for this
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ive been absolutely haunted (in a good way) by those super soft androgynous shiva drawings. some may criticise them as too palatable. i will defend them as being shining beacons and incidental mirrors of humanity's love. anyway. yippie
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absolutely let me into your house and i will not rearrange your furniture in many ways
astral form from yesterday. eyes not depicted because im not. drawing that many eyes and when i tried it was Very Trypophobia. youre welcome.
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531 246 7
he who holds the sky (in his mouth)
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actually have the black and white version of that last piece too
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Consciousness is alluring. The truth and the core self are like a lover undressed; you know only you will see them this way, and that when the world looks on they will see creases in fabric and face, a friend, an option. But you, when you trace your hands upon that true reflection, will know the rawness of skin and the taste of flesh that will linger through every moment you are away, and your internal eyes will forever be imprinted with their sweet perfume that only you know they wear in bed.
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