Here’s “OH. Uh…OH. OW!” PART II ✨✨✨ Made during the middle months of this year and just newly assembled by hand. It has a removable sticker held in place on the cover, is 34 pages, with a B&W interior of newly inked pieces, reproduced in nice fine detail. Available in my etsy store✌🏻️✌🏻

Made with Instagram

Recent Commissions from the Doodle Quest Kickstarter and ECCC.

You can follow me on twitter or instagram if you like seeing process posts and other nonsense too.

ALSO, if you missed the Kickstarter, you can now order copies of my book, Doodle Quest by visiting this handy dandy store HERE. There are other goodies like prints, posters, and stickers too. Pass on the word to your friends and enemies alike!


(she wraps her pretty red lips -
a shade named pomegranate, not cherry -
around the neck of a bottle and bats her darkened eyelashes,
a wordless invitation to the man across the bar
who pretends not to notice as she slips in the heels
she stole from her mother’s closet)


(she lets him take her home -
makes her body soft, pliant -
he offers the seeds and she lets them stain her chin
like a sacrifice, like blood. she smiles as she kisses him,
and she lets him think that all this
was his idea)


(in this world, it it widely known
that the name persephone means bringer of destruction -
she is hunger, she is greed, she is want,
and there is nothing more devastating
than the ambition of a teenage girl)

—  conquering the (under)world: a three-step guide | m.c.p

Text message received: November 6, 2013.
I know you love him as much as I do.

God, we were the girls left on the sidelines,
weren’t we?
He kissed me with your lipstick on his mouth,
and you watching. He kissed you
with my heart tucked into his breast pocket.
We stood each other up, when he left–
stacked like a tower of blocks,
too easy to tip over.
We cried our way through it.
You were the softest sunset I ever got drunk with.
We strapped the bed sheets to the rickety mast
and sailed our way to clear waters.
I didn’t know you could love someone
for loving like you–
for falling into the same honeytrap,
the same flypaper.
He was poison in the water supply;
we were drying out around his name.
Nothing could make up for
two girls knee deep in false promises,
wading our way back to shore.

I hope you’re doing better, now. I hope,
when he calls, you don’t answer anymore.

—  CLEAR WATERS, by Ashe Vernon