This was an assignment in my figure drawing class where I had to take my realistic drawing of our model and “morph” her into something else. I was teaching myself pastels at the time, so I used my conté sticks for this. I love how it has a Guillermo del Toro feel to it.
Insects dine on squishy flesh
leaving burning holes and skin a mess.
The trenches widen
as they burrow deeper to hide in.
I writhe against the their gnashing,
tearing my fragile self with every thrashing.
on the backs of screaming cicadas. Virulent, sticky air,
slowing each breath
to the point of passing out,
only cut by quick storms
and a hail fallout.
Skin, tight and blistered,
peels in sheets to save for later.
Days are gone on the backs of floats
and clay-filled water.