Matazō Kayama
“Frozen Forest”
Category: Uncategorized
Drying runes! Ignore the standard normal distribution chart, haha. I selected each bone individually based on meaning, painstakingly carved each rune, moistened the bone with alcohol, then put a drop of ink into the grooves. The moisture made the ink spread throughout my carving! Once they all dried, I rinsed them off in water and gave them a scrub to get off any excess dried on ink. It spread a little too deep into and throughout the bone on some, but I really like how they each came out unique. Now, to let them dry out again and see the final results! This set is all composed of mountain lion paw bones, since felines are especially meaningful to me.
I’m definitely going to look into a better carving tool for next time; using an exacto blade but wanting deep, bold carvings was tough! But overall, I’m pleased with how these came out, which is all that matters in a personal piece!
These are so beautifully done! And mountain lion bones!
be wild, be unruly, bare your teeth to the world; be the terror and the abomination, be the blood on their hands, be the last exhale of a raging sun. ravage, devour, revel in the madness of the sleepless nights. burn, and bite, and grin like a feral god.
“All dark, all bloody, my heart,”
— Charles Baudelaire, tr. by Paul Weinfield, from “A Voyage to Cythera,”
The corruption begins with the mouth,
the tongue, the wanting.
The first poem in the world
is I want to eat.
Erica Jong, from “Where It Begins,” Fruits & Vegetables: Poems By Erica Jong (Holt, 1971)
“Dark Rosary hour. Drunk with wine and nocturnal harmony.”
— Georg Trakl, from Poems & Prose: A Bilingual Edition; “Hour of Grief,”
Horror hunger is such a good trope and I really think it’s my absolute favourite thing. As a feeling it’s difficult to depict but there’re so many subtle flavours of it, just-
Hunger that makes thinking feel like fumbling your way through thick, white fog, shot through with crimson clear bolts of intense, crackling need that you can only follow and cling too in the hopes that it’ll bring you back to yourself when it’s sated. It will- eventually. Though you might not like what you find
Hunger that is insidious and soaks into your thoughts like rot, changing how you see yourself and other people so slowly you’re not aware of it at all. Years down the line you don’t remember who you used to be or what that person used to want other than to eat
Hunger that just sits in your belly like an incorporeal, sleeping beast. No matter what or who or how much you eat, how well you manage to fill your stomach, you can still feel it there, undiminished and unaffected
Hunger that sharpens rather than lessens as you feed it, becoming more and more urgent until it reaches a blinding fever pitch that only doing serious injury to yourself will snap you out of
Hunger that makes your teeth and nails itch, makes your stomach snarl and your jaw restless, makes your throat ache for want of swallowing
Hunger that doesn’t send you out of control like an animal but functions like an addiction. You might put off feeding it and let the need accumulate and intensify for weeks because that will make the pleasure of feeding that much sweeter, that much more poignant
Just. All the varieties of horror hunger
churchyardgrim 