These may have been found inside a cracked mason jar upon a rowboat floating abandoned in the Potomac and taking rain to the weary frame.
The spiriTs are the ghosTs that are aT waR with your language. EverYone's personal language.
You shall noT be spared eveN if you suffereD the dire gifT of learning the alphabeT in a coffin.
All works on paper with black ink and oil pastels. All work by Matthew pony payroll bones.
INQUIRIES ARE ENCOURAGED!!