The beating, the shaking
The thing carved in bones
The thing that washed up
And brings plague to your home
The burning, the rusted
The blower of horns
The porcelain girl who must burden its scorn
The thing that sleeps and moans in the choir
The thing that awakens when the sun is devoured
It's hate and it's sorrow, its smile bleeds when it cracks
This is the martyr, the modern grotesque
BLOSSOM
BLOSSOM
To Dust
To Dust
Painting Myself a Darker Day
Painting Myself a Darker Day
Cowardice
Plague Father; Vermin Son
Blossom
Plague Father; Vermin Son
Consistency
The Invisible Thread
You Dreamt Of Me I Dreamt Of a Mountain Of Salt
What Does It Mean To Live In a Grotesquerie?
The Distance Grows Fonder
What Does It Mean To Live In a Grotesquerie?
You Dreamt Of Me I Dreamt Of a Mountain Of Salt
Modern Grotesque
Modern Grotesque
Closed Doors