Words of the Constant

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Kind

Survivor

Flour by any other name would smell as sweet.

Cooked purples.

We should offer it to the beast.

The beast will be satisfied with this.

This will satisfy the beast, but not for long.

The beast doesn't want that.

A waste.

It gives food flavor.

It smells a bit nice.

The life they contain is a mystery.

What childhood is this for you?

But no honey.

Hello, ma'am. Care to trade?

It can't make life more palatable.

I don't want to carry this around.

It makes a little bit of food.

It only works if I place it somewhere.

To till the corrupt soil.

It is the key to something precious.

The key to a beautiful place, locked long away.

It sheds light on nothing important.

The only light in my life is Abigail.

Small Streetlight

I am ground down on the mealing stone of life.

Seclusion has not been kind to it.

I, too, cart around my baggage.

Nothing in there could bring me happiness.

Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll be poisonous.

They thrive on a stump made by death.

All things die. Even fungus.

I never cry.

It will never make anyone cry again.

The life they contain is a mystery.

It looks okay.

Sigh... Why bother?

Looks dangerous.

It's winged, but it's no angel.

Gnaw Worshipper

Abigail needs a statue.

Gnaw Worshipper

Long dry.

Now I may enter the park.

I need a key to enter.

A monument. But not to Abigail.

Dust to dust.

Had I such a shell, I would never emerge.

Cold and dead.

Would you like to be a pie, little bird?

It's practicing for the big sleep.

If only life had been handed to me on a silver plate.

Water, water, everywhere...

There's no night here. It is a nice change.

Ancient Gateway

Perhaps I'll be happier in the next world.