Angel Primrose

I clawed my way through six feet of dirt and stone to find peace in the chaos of this broken world. My body is made of the corpse I became, a vessel transformed and molded to suit my needs. A form made flesh through the hopes and dreams of the person I was. In the darkest hours of the night I long for the safety found within the confines of that grave, the earth and rot and decay I once called home. And yet, I know I can never return to that place, not so long as I remain alive. 

As ashes fades to ashes, and dust passes to dust, know we are not alone in this endless void.

My stories: The Lost Words

My artwork: The Lost Photos