No one taught us to draw
We scratched the hours into plaster because silence was heavier than stone.
We scratched the hours into plaster because silence was heavier than stone.
Each line a breath. Each breath a tally. The pattern holds the chaos in place.
Eyes, mouths, profiles filling every corner. Horror vacui is survival, not style.
Ochre from clay. Blood from rust. White from bone. Nothing bought. Everything earned.