andy

(fool's gold)

[sykodellikangel]

Shade!

An artfight attack I did today for https://artfight.net/~%C3%81tomo, all credits to them for shade's class design : ) my artfight: https://artfight.net/~sykodellik

[sykodellikangel]

l lawliet

me staring at that maths paper (edexcel is getting slimed) anyways cheeky little sketch cos why not

[sykodellikangel]

mudzy yet again

happy pride gaylords type of shit im doing with two gcses tmr 💔

[sykodellikangel]

murdoc

whose this lovely mug then

[sykodellikangel]

2-D and Noodle (phase 2)

my fav governmental agent and painkiller addict

[sykodellikangel]

i dont want to be sober anymore

[sykodellikangel]

why is it that i so desperately fawn for attention. i simply must be remembered. i deserve to be known. let me set my glutton claws upon your brain, gnaw and fester and fnd home there and root for a mere moment. is that such an inconvience to you? i will not disturb your thoughts no matter how idle. if only to be absolved, i ask for a moment that i am your idol. commit idolatry. love me. read my words. i seek only to eutrophicate every thought in my name and my scent and my face, i don't care if you know me, or my name. know of ME. know that i Am and that I shall forever be. and i grow jealous of these words as each of them are written for they are younger than i, and I loathe them for that.

[sykodellikangel]

Blood

The muse placed the cold steel to taut skin and tugged For why is it not considered that muses bleed the same red as painters And they bleed the same red as us No matter how inhumane Behind my eyes, he proclaimed, is a mind unlike any And he profaned our race with his pride He was the product of true beauty and grace, could translate such feelings into ink and paint And those feelings would beat death, set to be the equaliser of all men For he was more than death, and more than any man And yet he bled red Just the same as us Blood

[sykodellikangel]

Smoker's jacket

Second hand smoke Clung to the cuffs Fur trim and damp grip Pull a thread through the eye And pierce the rough leather I remember, Envelop my nose as it plunges Into the crook of his hairspray slick shoulder. Twine hung memories pulled back together Vanilla, cinnamon, tobacco and cloves I didn’t mind the moth balls too much So long as I got to wear it straight after Acrid smoke assault virgin throat-flesh And I kept coughing for days after Crumpled filter in the ash tray of my wardrobe Still hung up: The smoker’s jacket I’ve worn since October

[sykodellikangel]

Woe of the Conscious

Artificial sun blessed by the filament bulb, Hangs over a lower’d head, hanging over its falsed work. Dragging the dregs of ink, nib of a splintered quill Details of dissection, paroxysmal tremble. And it moistened its eyes, refraction of light; To check upon the dull writings it’d conjured: “Everything is nothing in its unseen state Determined by the conscious mind and the man or else the loss of heat energy long coded” Invoking every God gathered from memories fragmented, In minds gone and buried, It did laugh great, for it was the end of the world. And buried would be this scripture! Doomed to be figured by every mind, Blessed sentience by the cruellest hand.

[sykodellikangel]

Whose hands are Red?

Beneath ebon shroud; eyes bereft of man, Death cast his verdict o’er the insects. Brazen by hard shell, one meagrely pried “Which is deserving, us condemned to die?”

Upon this considered, the shade did laugh: “Of which who loan flesh, they owe to me: much.” A fact so easy retained by so few: Those owing, claim the deserving is you. The child, the haggard, the poor, the lame, Not once ever those whose profits they claim.

Baptised in blood, schools, homes, blinden'd idols, That which that man did claim necessary.

So please say, I beg, was it not deserved? That he lay dead, and a child unhurt?

[sykodellikangel]

Grief for the Fawn

Over glassy reflection I stand fast, Pyrrha, oh tender, why did her stone sink? Wherefore did her essence spawn with no breath? Cast from the mother whose bones are too, hers.

Never for her to catch rain on her cheek; Never for her to taste sweet on her tongue; Never for her to know what is not dark; Not for her to tread this earthly meadow, Without care of thorn or sting or evenfall.

I do suppose, I, now more rock than pebble: Grievance for what could averts from what should. Elsewhere beneath this ice, glacial crypt, Beneath which I skate, she holds the water:

And lets me to care less, just for this night.

[sykodellikangel]

A walk

Dew unbroken upon the grass

Crunched as I tread through the churchyard ground

To the left the church, to the right a man,

A head overhung, above a fresh dug plaque in the green

I steadied my gait and continued

Earlier I passed a pond

A duck and her chicks at the water’s edge

In her slightest movement I swear I saw some serenity

Until me

Crystaline was the water, until she retreated in; ripples curled to the shore

Her babies followed

As loyal in step and chirp as dogs

Now I find myself upon a log

Beneath my hand I touch its sturdy base

And recall a tree

I know not what quite brought me to you, dear log

The walk I found you on was spontaneous enough

Though now I sit upon you, bark rough and wet

So many words do come to me

By every degree, fate is but a myth to me

But in the spirit of poetry, this act of fate is hard to deny

[sykodellikangel]

Spilt ink

Dear sonneteers estranged, look at the ink;

Above you which has spilt across the sky

In such far nebulae I oft reside 

Behind great cosmos and comets I hide

With idle tongue, mind mingled with such awe

At the stars about who seer and soar 

Is there anything to mind I can say?

To help thwart your eyes to me and away?

I release you tied tongue, I need you not

I will write and sing and say unforgot

At this thought I will search upon these dark straights

For those that refuge with tongues that too - wait 

None can ever hear thoughts without voice: so think

It matters not what you write, just spill ink

[sykodellikangel]

In Carcere

Madness, fair robin, is that why you sing?

You must know you are my lone company

So indulge me, dear creature, stolen thing

How such lilt calls from beneath your clipped wing

Why is such pleasure caught in sunken eye?

If winter be your rest, why hold such warmth?

Is there any room in you to despise?

I believe I am of good mind to hate

Steel that fetters us in this cage of late

Though what bars can hold a heart that still free

Perhaps I should ask in good faith of good truth 

If the one makened mad is me

[sykodellikangel]

Of Time, and Love, and Places

You are an amalgam of people that loved

And laughed and spoke and lived

Oh how desperately human it is

To defy the relentless march of time

And preserve all those faces lost to him

In your child

You can see the deep green eyes of your mother

The blonde curls that once held your uncles face

You can see it woven in your freshly born son

Everything that had once been

And all that was to come

One day, time will see me out of step

And he will render me a memory

And one day, memories will fade

No room in minds that never remembered me

But the whisper of me; unforgotten

Still hissing in your very being

Unrelenting, unwilling to be let go

Until time himself is ceasing