Slime Rabbits, Rowdy wings, and a broken heart (Patreon)

Well, tonight marks for tommorow a day of rest where I can breathe easy for a little. I believe my contract is coming to an end this weekend with my other job, and so if I fall on through those cracks, I'll be looking for work again. My goodness, can anyone recall a time where work was the least bit stable? 

Still, it's nice to be on your toes now and again, and shaking up our work habits can breed new discoveries of possibility in potential new fields. Besides all this however, I've been sitting myself away now and again with books of runes, and tight gripped pages that speak of hooved things that wander in the corner's shadow of the eyes. 

I've been trying though to raise my heart high. To keep my spirit roaming and mind wandering. There are smoke trails in my room, things of incense and ground herbs. My mind is heavily distorted with sharp images. Dreams that whisper and grasp at me as if they threaten to drag me beneath the sheets and I may not return yet. I've been in trouble for some time, perhaps a great desperation finds me in all this exhaustions of the body and spirit. The one I love has grown reclusive of those feelings, and it ills me back to a time of great sadness. 

Perhaps you have known of this for some time. It reflects in my work, in all these fleeting rabbits and cracked figures. Its never easy when you lose a loved one. Far harder when they are lost but still next to you. Some sketches touch on this, for they come at a time where I..at least for now..feel like stone. 

Of course, if you have been with me a long while, then you are also aware of an idea I refuse to let go of. It is that how we feel musn't always be reflective of how we act, but how we express ourselves. The relief of that pressure being spilled through the pages and ink is so indescribably gratifying, a savior for the heart. Between yourself and I, and if you will come a little closer now for a whisper...I would stay in this room and hide away from the world if I could. Would make wall after wall of filled works of terrible and beautiful things, and be a ghost of an artist walking outside this place, this world. 

...ah..of course I could not do that. Not just because of the need for work and for the expenses for which there never seems an end. But because like yourself, I am fond of these places, I am fond of these people, and most of all I am fond of you. So I will walk another day out in the rain or that horrid light, where all those noises spring from, because how I feel, I will not act on. What I wish to show you, and give you that you deserve..now that..is far more rewarding.