In a gallery haunted and dim, Where the shadows danced on a whim, An easel stood tall, With a ghostly sprawl, Of portraits that seemed to swim. With brushes that whispered of dread, And canvases painted in red, The palette did creep, As the colors would weep, While the specters of artists long dead. A skeleton sketched with a grin, Drew a monster that lurked from within, With each stroke of fright, It sprang to the night, And the viewers all fled with a spin! So if you should
I have no shortage of places that I could post my nonsense. What I do seem to have a shortage of, is attention span. I often forget to post to, write on, or update things. However, I've recently been getting much better at that sort of thing. Maybe it's an improvement in overall mental health. Whatever it is, I'm not complaining. That's what brings us here, now. I keep forgetting that my website is more than just a shop for me to sell prints in or a portfolio to post my art t