#elí creates

[thespinesmoustache]

y’all i made sufganiyot today

they’re not the prettiest but hot damn if they weren’t Fucking Delicious

[thespinesmoustache]

started to doodle a lil chibi plague doctor, was going for a hollow knight kinda feel, and realised he was looking a little sad. probably because he’s feeling sick, right?

[thespinesmoustache]

i’ve discovered i really like doodling with my chalk brush in procreate

2min daily doodle, 5 june 2019

[thespinesmoustache]

paint me a rainbow

they say sense memory is stronger than any other, and i guess it must be true because i’ve always associated pain with falling off the railing of our front porch and landing hard in the lily bed.

the pain stuck so deep that even now, a lifetime away, the imprint still sits flush against my ribs and i can feel its sharpness when i breathe. the deepest grief comes in shades of green.

anger is a dull white, the kind that comes after years of fading as though you can fade a hue from nothing to nothing. it crumbles away to grey, apathetic, but anger is whitewashed walls and linoleum flooring.

fury is the taste of antiseptic in the air and the brightness of bleach in a bathtub, a white so deep you can drown in it when your legs give out under you and your vision fades out.

maybe you’ll come to in shades of blue, comfort and safety, the soft weight of a duvet up to your shoulders. up all night, afraid, but the sun always rises and the couch is a shelter as the darkness turns teal.

or would we rather have phthalo, vivid and alert? it tastes like the only thing we aren’t afraid of today, tastes like compromise and an aborted panic attack, sweetened cacao nursed through the evening. it’s something always a little better than nothing.

but sometimes that panic attack follows through, ruddy red, always on the lookout for coffee grounds but no, we’re safe, we’re okay it may burn like hell but it’s not burning a hole, it’s just the fear cutting deep on its way out.

but red is survival, too, it is making the choice not to let the poison dwell, red is making the choice that now will not be forever, red is taking your choices by storm even after the fact, red is fear of losing control in the fantasy where you’re still in charge

[thespinesmoustache]

went for a walk by the stream yesterday

[thespinesmoustache]

took a break from my 4-in-1 to roll some spring for my 6-in-1 my hand is pretty stiff now this is a lot of spring

[thespinesmoustache]

it’s holding its own shape and i’m super proud

[thespinesmoustache]

a tree sitter

so cast your fears into the sky

these fickle ferocious fiends

make clouds out of your demons

and dance in the rain.

the world is black and white, 

grays and greys, 

blues and yellows and pinks and greens.

the world is bare feet in warm puddles.

open a vein in the forest

and seep poetry into the dirt,

cupric desperation and the wonders of colour.

the world is the shade of leaves in the autumn.

panic about clarity in a bottle,

a blue so pale it barely exists

until you bore down fifteen feet in the snow.

the world is the shadow of azure inside an igloo.

taste salt and skin, rough-smooth-startle

it’s nothing to the beat of music in your ears.

the water is warm when you walk away.

the world is light like a dandelion seed in the springtime.

the world is colour and seasons

rough bark gripped gentle and firm

evergreen needles turned brown thirty feet below,

sky deep purple flooded with glitter and moonlight.