I'm SUPER behind on Inktober, but I think I'll just get something out for today. And everyone that's been keeping up, congratulations! It takes serious commitment to draw a thing every day! For a month! Nice job! Give yourself a pat on the back! Anyway, here's my thing for day 22, which is ghost.

if there was a day for all the world's ghosts:

crossed out prose and wilted flowers,

art that isn't quite perfect 

torn clothes and broken bones

empty foundations of wrecked buildings and the ashes of burnt-out cities

scrapes and cuts and bruises and lost limbs

and deaths, oh, the deaths

of course, the killers and the saints,

and all of the in-betweens.

perhaps we might appreciate the still-living

the healed-over, the forgotten, the perfected

if we could see our skin for all of the healed over scars,

all of the people no longer grieving--

for what else are we, but broken things long-healed,

what else are we, but miracles? 

I have still yet to ink "ornament".

Day 18, misfit: 

Day 19, "sling":

Day 19, "tread", another lettering:

And Day 21, "Treasure". I don't know what the heck these things are, but they're a lot of fun to make. They're sort of a cross between a flowchart, a poem, and a surrealist meme. Is it art? I don't know, but why not?

Does this actually have a deep meaning? Kind of, yes. Feel free to reply your theories of the meaning in my madness. XD

I'll have the lyrics typed out in the mouseover: 

Here's my day 22, ghost-- featuring a little cameo from my favourite ghost :)

~Starseeker 

Ash (13) and overgrown (14) are also done. Here's ash. I used watercolor, and the color is so much better irl-- there's a lot more red at the top, for example. But it looks alright scanned, too. I think I posted a sketch of this earlier? It's like a phoenix-type-girl, I guess. Since the prompt was "ash", I got inspired.

~Starseeker 

And here's day 14, overgrown! What can I say, I like cloaks.

~Starseeker 

Here's one for yesterday, dizzy. I was inspired by a camp I went to this summer, working on  a farm all day how carefree and fun it was, and I hope it carries over in my poem.

what i remember most from that week--

we slept in tents on the field,

between the goats and the vegetables, under the zipline

it was mosquito time, a watercolor lavender sky

a symphony of crickets.

our counselors gathered us up and told us we'd get to watch the older kids walk on hot coals,

they made it sound so serious that we were pin-drop quiet for the only time that week,

even though once we were sitting, cross legged and wide eyed,

they told us to yell for them

build them up so they could do this.

by the time they started it was so dark that you could only see the vivid orange of the hot coals,

like deadly fireflies, rhythymically blocked by feet.

they told them before they walked amidst the fire,

the coals have to burn something. don't let it be your feet.

they walked on fire, yelled their chant, but what i remember most is the game we played after,

probably just to tire us out,

our counselor told us to spin till we were dizzy, then yell for her.

i started first, spinning and laughing and laughing and spinning and yelling

until a light blinded me and i fell right over,

laughter still filling my lungs as i collapsed

when my vision cleared, i looked up and saw the stars, still slowly spinning,

and i sat there for a moment in the grass,

nothing in the world except for my laughter and those spinning stars. 

Dark.

Day 20, Tread. 

Day 21, Treasure. (Because Nifflers are adorable.)