Return

Smythe, the elusive comical bedraggled poor excuse of a inkslinger. He lives a sorted soiled life. An artist he truly is, his canvas is your skin. Sober? Hopefully so. Demons haunt his existence. He likes Led Zeppelin and Jack Daniels…combined. His cough is a reminder of years of inhaling. His eyes red and runny. His soul, a very old soul is vulnerable. His love was lost but his lust grows. His friends are loyal, his enemies haunt him

. His thoughts will haunt yours. I must get back to bringing him to life. Spurred on by the urge to create in one form or another. Words will be my medium for a while…maybe longer. Peace