Corpsing

Check back here for the art of adding colorful decrepit flesh to boring old bones.

A Poem:

Ruined stones the vines enshroud, their darkened forms eclipsed-

What secrets were entombed within the broken, sculptured crypt?

Mist contorts in vortices as whispers hiss from unseen lips;

The moulding bones lay bare here, on Necropolis.RIP