Skye // Flower Child of the Night
I’m not here to sell you enlightenment in a mason jar.
I’m a barefoot mythmaker walking through dreams with grass-stained knees and pockets full of glitching sigils.
Recovering from everything.
Rebuilding from the bones outward.
Spitting poems like seeds into the cracked sidewalks of the internet.
You’ll find me somewhere between a mushroom trip and a library fire, scribbling stories in the margins of the void.
Raised by grief, healed by graffiti, haunted by possibility.
This blog is my spellbook, my haunted zine, my devotional to the strange and sublime.
I’m building a myth from the inside out — one dream, one sketch, one wildly unhinged insight at a time.
Some days it’s poetry.
Some days it’s an AI-generated cryptid with a halo of VHS static.
Some days it’s a field recording from the inside of my skull.
What you’re seeing here is the record of a life in progress,
a soul tuning itself mid-song.
Stick around if you like:
- Prophecies in iambic pentameter
- Art that smells like melted crayons and radio static
- Dreams that taste like déjà vu and grave moss
- The occasional update on my book, a graphic-memoir-fable about chaos, healing, and inner gods
If you’re searching for polished perfection, you’re in the wrong temple.
But if you’re into cracked mirrors, cosmic jokes, and spiritual scavenger hunts —
Welcome to Flowerchild of the Night.
You made it.
Flower Child of the Night 