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#poetaxart
theskeletongames · 6 months
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Fanletter
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crazydatpersona · 2 months
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I finally got him!! EEEEEEEEEEE!!
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mookookachoo · 3 months
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THEY’RE GLORIOUS!!
They showed up a little *wiggly* because it was raining and my mail person doesn’t care about me or my packages. But I just put them on a book and set my 10 pound binder of Pokemon cards on top of them for a couple hours. Problem solved!
@theskeletongames Thank you so so much for the extra Christmas sticker!! I love them all so much!
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milkybnnuy · 3 months
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the triple B's
credits to @theskeletongames for the Bitty and Bara Sans
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aryartwork · 1 year
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YEESSSS MY ORDER HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!!! I'M SO HAPPYYh!!! AAAHGG I WAS WAITING FOR THIS FOR SO LONG!!!
EVERYTHING IS GORGEOUS @theskeletongames your art is as BEAUTIFUL AS EVER😭😭😭
Mhfff Look at his little face I wanna squish his cheeks!🤧😚💖💖💖
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Even my cat likes him ig
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. . . . .
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perdicescode · 6 months
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ilexlio · 2 years
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HERE COMES THE BOYYYYYYS HELLO BOYS 💖💖💖
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Received my skelly boys from @theskeletongames ! I love em sm, everything feels high quality and the pillowcase is so soft 💖
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poetax · 8 months
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Little update of the game I've been working on and some of the systems that have been implimented.
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maihiddenbeauty · 2 years
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I have made my first poetaxart purchase! Thank you so much @theskeletongames they look amazing and I love them all! The bittybones are adorable and the kitty bitty bones are even cuter! Be it basic or bitty I love them all! Thank you thank you thank you!
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farmers-cat · 2 years
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I’m rlly happy that these are here I absolutely love them <33 @poetax
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vanglaggle · 2 months
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YOU GUYS
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FOAMING OUT THE MOUTH!!!!!! MY WIFE ITS MY WIFE!!!!!!! got here ............ quickly..... i am...... DYING IM DYING IM DYING I WILL DIE
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theskeletongames · 3 months
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Daddy Bara Sans
Haven't drawn any bara Sans in a while so why not.
I had to draw Sans moving quickly so I settled on a sort of silly evil trot because it’s hard to imagine him running. Not quite running, not quite walking. Sans utilizing the one weapon short people can use here…
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aneumann · 1 year
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Palpável Paixão
Questionável emoção dentro de mim. Crescente energia ao qual surgiu. Flutuante pensamento do desejo Ponho-me a ser sincera no sentir.
Adentro num novo aspecto de percepções, Pura sensação de conforto em ti. Almejo ser possuida pelo seu toque E em meio seus olhos mergulhar.
Vivo hoje a existir unicamente dual, Ao tempo intenso ao qual pudermos estar. Delirante essência que me conquista . Sutil alegria de compreender tua alma.
Amo entender suas complexas camadas Aos quais me inebrio e fascino. Que nosso mundo não degrade agora, Para que venhamos em estações caminhar.
-Agatha Neumann
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isaiaguilera · 5 months
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«Quiero una vida lejos del mundo,
y que el mundo me devuelva la vida».
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dupychild · 10 months
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¡Usa mi código de invitación para ganar dinero extra! https://vm.tiktok.com/ZM28Mo4hC/
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Write, write, write.
The tickle in my fingertips; the shout in my head.
the franticness with which I look for the paper.
Anything that can catch the fleeting thought.
The maniac inside comes alive
as if a switch has been aligned:
write, write, write.
As if leaving the thought
will make a piece of me disappear.
A caterpillar lurking around long enough,
its chrysalis already formed, 
breaking into a butterfly
running to be lost in the wilderness 
never to be seen again. 
Write, write, write.
And when my fingers cannot keep up 
with the stumbling words inside,
words too slow for the sensations inside my chest.
The trembling of my hands; spinning in my head.
Looking desperately as the butterfly flies away.
Net ripping and tangling at every tree and turn.
Write, write, write. 
The desperation and joy, as if there’s no middle point.
Words bleeding into the paper as the wind cuts
for the butterfly’s wings can cause a typhoon.
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Escribe, escribe, escribe. El cosquilleo en la punta de mis dedos; el grito en mi cabeza. el frenesí con el que busco el papel. Cualquier cosa que pueda atrapar el pensamiento fugaz. La maníaca interior cobra vida como si se hubiera alineado un interruptor: escribir, escribir, escribir. Como si dejar el pensamiento ir hará desaparecer un pedazo de mí. Una oruga al acecho el tiempo suficiente, su crisálida ya formada, convirtiéndose en una mariposa corriendo para perderse en el desierto para nunca ser vista otra vez. Escribe, escribe, escribe. Y cuando mis dedos no pueden seguir el ritmo de las palabras tropezando en el interior, palabras demasiado lentas para las sensaciones dentro de mi pecho. el temblor de mis manos; dando vueltas en mi cabeza. Mirando desesperadamente como la mariposa se va volando. Red rasgando y enredando en cada árbol y vuelta. Escribe, escribe, escribe. La desesperación y la alegría, como si no hubiera un punto medio. Palabras sangrando en el papel mientras el viento corta porque las alas de la mariposa pueden causar un tifón.
- Rola
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