'Eddie 'wing man'ing Mule-Boy through his latest break-up' - revisited
#art #drawing #sketch #illustration #comic
'Drowning in NYC'
The smell of hot steel and old piss surrounds me,
As I watch (cock-eyed and unsteady) all the bottom feeding, scum sucking midget flies; darting through the dirty air.
Souls that one can only associate with such a smell.
Like old friends.
Or cousins that you shared an awkward, lonely childhood with but now loath to see in all your coaxial adult monotony, at those sterile family gatherings.
The walls are littered with graffiti,
Shouting spasms of single syllable words like “fuck” and “cunt” that I seem to understand more than the words of advice that I have spewed in bookmarked haste to my loved ones over the years.
I am cemented at the bottom of the sea; weighed down by the same old routines.
Staring blankly ahead.
Watching all sorts of awkwardly fashioned fish swim by,
Casting their sideway glances, in what seems to be a hesitant pity; forcing their reserved judgement of this bloated, drowning specimen,
Caught as if on a hook, in their periphery.
I nod at each… in thanks of their subtle mercy.
I float: numbing out the thought that maybe something needed to change.
Ahead or behind of the place where I now sway.
I will deal with it tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
I wanted to burn the world with art.
I awake to mumbled, loud, generic music bashing at my ears like neglected children dry retching for attention.
But nothing penetrates in any kind of coherence.
Like a car crash in the ocean.
Or a Molotov Cocktail thrown against the moon.
My cut fingers sting annoyingly under invisible beads of sweat; not yet used to the heat of the new spring sun.
I am no longer familiar with the world outside or of those I witnessed in distant past lives.
But I am comfortable here, none-the-less.
In all this sticky loneliness.
I feel I have awoken in a womb of belligerent intoxication.
Fighting against the pain of birth sure to come within the next waking of that abusive sun.
Five minute friends - ten second fights.
Too dull and exhausted to find conviction in anger.
Too water logged to find hope within the sunlight for fear of being dry.
Too scared to hurt her with my habits.
She is my only motivation of self preservation.
I am never not in love with her.
I am never.
Not in love.
…I am just too drunk to say it.
She is my sun.
'The Mystic Knights of Amnesia'
#themysticknightsofamnesia#art #drawing #sketch #illustration
#nickcave #drawing #sketch #art #illustration
Screwing around with pen & ink…I’m not sure why I drew a cow in a suit… “I drew the duck blue because I’ve never seen a blue duck before, and to be honest with you; I wanted to see a blue duck.” #thatsquacktastic
#art #drawing #pen&ink #sketch #illustration
Bar napkin sketch of Cousin V
Sunday Self Portrait: ‘Supertramp, Kodah & Idol’
#drawing #art #sketch #portrait #selfportrait #illustration #chaschalker
‘The Resurrected Christ and the death of The Infant Accuser’ - pencil