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L 2d
"What do you mean, when you say 'angel'?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean why do you call me that. What does that word mean to you?"

"You know what it means."

"Sometimes I think I do."

"It means dark thing. Because there's a violence to it. Because it's hard to see. Like looking at the body in the distance- the thing standing between the trees, with only the faint glow of the moon illuminating its face."

"You think angels are dark?"

"I think angels are mysterious. You know they're there, but that's it. You think you know what they are, what they look like, but you're incapable of grasping their image."

"So, what does that look like?"

"It looks like everything. And nothing. Total darkness, blinding light."

"Sounds.. overwhelmingly incomprehensible."

"That's why it looks like different things to different people. A woman, a man, the recurring nightmare from your childhood. Some people think it looks wrong. But to an angel, there is no wrong way to have a body."

"Now why does that sound familiar?"

"I think an angel looks like a sword. Like the terrifying indifference of nature, and the undying, righteous rage of a person with a good heart. All and none, never wrong in their being."

"And this is what you call me?"

"Yes. This is what I call you.
My darling mystery. My dark thing.
My angel."
๐˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ด๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ
๐˜‘๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ
๐˜ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด
๐˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ญ๐˜บ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜บ

๐˜›๐˜ฐ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ง ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ
๐˜ž๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ญ ๐˜ฎ๐˜บ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ด ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ
๐˜‰๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ถ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ช๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ง
๐˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ

๐˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ต ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ
๐˜ˆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜บ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต
๐˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜บ๐˜ด ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ค๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ๐˜ฏ
๐˜‰๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ๐˜ต ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ

๐˜ž๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ๐˜ญ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ง๐˜ฆ๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ต
๐˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ฆ๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ฌ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐˜จ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ
๐˜๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด ๐˜ฑ๐˜ถ๐˜ป๐˜ป๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ญ๐˜ช๐˜ง๐˜ฆ

๐˜ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ธ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ
๐˜›๐˜ฐ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ต๐˜ด ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฏ๐˜ช๐˜จ๐˜ฉ๐˜ต
๐˜›๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ด ๐˜ณ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ
๐˜‰๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ

๐˜ž๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฅ ๐˜ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฐ
๐˜›๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ๐˜ด๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ณ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ค๐˜ช๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ด ๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ
๐˜๐˜ฏ ๐˜ธ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ต ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜บ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ
๐˜๐˜ง ๐˜'๐˜ฎ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฑ๐˜ต๐˜บ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ด๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฆ

๐˜ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ง๐˜ช๐˜ณ๐˜ด๐˜ต
๐˜š๐˜ฐ ๐˜ ๐˜ค๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ญ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ
๐˜'๐˜ฎ ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ต ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜จ๐˜ฉ ๐˜ง๐˜ฐ๐˜ณ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ
๐˜‰๐˜ถ๐˜ต ๐˜ฆ๐˜ท๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ ๐˜ ๐˜ด๐˜ต๐˜ช๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ
Raven Feels Jun 1
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, an old draft from last week:>


is there really a future for this misery
a new page that heroes the plot as a decent start over apology

craves distance and knows that would be known
angel like plastic sensations to the dawn

kept on stove to be loathed into a tomorrow
for the heart to yearn for the mind to dwell for the feels to borrow

midnight skies not even there not been predicted
lulled on the moons they say so I stay anonymously protected


                                                                                    ------ravenfeels
L May 28
Journal entry
May 7, xxxx

She knows I love her, my creature. Of course she does.
There are still secrets between us; there might always be. We haven't decided.
You see, some lovers- they reach a point- where they dance that silent dance, and wordlessly through looks and smiles, will decide that some secrets will always be secrets. Others say everything, and find strength in doing so. We're not there yet. And so, some things remain unspoken.

A secret I keep from her now is- I know what she is, yes, but I can't help but think of her as the opposite sometimes. A thing not with dove wings and a halo, like the paintings, but a creature with thick, rubbery wings. Heavy horns sitting on her head. There is something uniquely dark about her.

There is so much I still don't know. There is a heaven, is what she's told me. It isn't as beautiful as you think, she says. When I ask her if there is a God, she looks away. And I know there is something in my question that brings her pain. She has never answered the question.

She still walks to her lake. (Yes- it's hers now.) She visits it often.
She does it at night, when I'm asleep. But I wake easily in her presence. I've caught her walking towards the wood. I know it's the lake she goes to. It must be. I've never followed her.

She thinks she hides it well. But I can tell there is a rage. You visit your lake in secret, and what would you have to hide, if not the fact that over there you must be inflicting yourself with some violent ritual. Something I should not see. You must have some kind of terrible thing inside of you. Divine grief, or envy, something that must be gnawing at your heart. I can see it in your eyes.

Why won't she tell me? I worry sometimes that I'll never be allowed to help her. I suffer with these thoughts, and she doesn't say a thing.

There are silences like arrows, aimed at you, meant to **** you. Meant to maim the heart. But not hers.
Her silence is the kind that hurts to look at, because you know it isn't a choice. The more I **** the more her throat seems to tighten. It's as if she wants to tell you everything, but physically can't. As if telling you was an arrow. As if telling you her truths and her fears would

  **** her


I want to know why she goes to the lake, I do. I want to know what happened before. What is God to you, what has he done? Tell me please, even if I am not enough, even if I am just the rabbit you tell your sorrows to. I may be from another world, I may be the animal unable to ever understand your pain, but my ears are long and my eyes are big and I will listen and watch you intently. I love you.

Sometimes I think I'm too small. How could a thing like you choose a thing like me? The thought used to **** me. I'm learning not to spiral. Even if you won't help me. I have to stay strong. I have to show patience.
Yes, if she wants to keep her secrets, then keep her secrets she must. I worry about her, but what can I do. I can only be patient. I can only do what I can. I can only love her until she decides to bloom before me.

My angel who howls by the moonlit lake.
I will wait for you.
War zone in my brain,
Nothins really the same,
Exepct my heart thatโ€™s same,
But my brains not the same,
Sufferin depresseion that I cannot tame,
Losing my mind it feels like everyday,
Drowing in thoughts and my hate,
Gonna have to break the gate ,
The gate of gratification and grace ,

Leave my devil to the grave,
But my devils immortal hes lurkin,
Every corner every crack ready to break out,
Sick of bein called a disappointment and a clown,
Bout to rain havic on this little ******  town,
But calmdown and open ur 3rd eye and face the light,
But the lights is mine,
But im not mine,
Im my devils,
Forced to do his transactions and his deals,

But its hard to open grace when ur a disgrace,
A outcast from myself and life,
Used to be a angel but now im fallin from  grace,
Fallin from grace from this race of pain and change,
Hasnโ€™t been the same since 6th grade,
Alawys bullied pushed and pulled,
But there so much u can pull a anchor by a rope,
Before the rope breaks and the anchor stops,
Like that anchor and my gratification stopped,
And lost my grace,

Open ur 3rd eye and face the light,
But the lights is mine,
But im not mine,
I will never escape this race of anxiety and changeโ€ฆ
L May 20
I think about what it would do to her. To call her: god. Divine majesty.
Do not be afraid she says.
And how we must be reminded every time...

When these creatures undress before us, and their form is an arrow sleeping in our gut. Our insides wrenching again and again each time we look. The more you worship, the more pain you know. Terror resides in the beauty of their form- a body we cannot understand. A body that is never wrong.
And oh, how we canโ€™t help but look.

I look.

For me, the moon is full and hanging behind my eyes.
The wrenching and the writhing
The moaning and pain
It is sublime, unbearable transformation.
Transmutable worship, transmutable horror-- Nourishment for a thing caught in its becoming.

You caught me in my becoming.

I am the dragon and the maiden it keeps.
I am the mouth and the hand reaching inside it.
Darkness and light begin to blur.  
         ๐ƒ๐จ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ ๐›๐ž ๐š๐Ÿ๐ซ๐š๐ข๐.
๐“๐ก๐ž๐ซ๐ž ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ง๐จ ๐ฐ๐ซ๐จ๐ง๐  ๐ฐ๐š๐ฒ ๐จ๐Ÿ ๐›๐ž๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐ .โ€‹โ€‹โ€‹โ€‹
tia May 18
would you like to dance, my dear?
waltzing above the fiery pits of hell,
oh my, it would be very tragic if you fell.. !
so please hold on tight and stay near

you must wonder who I am
I'm the one with a heart caged behind feathers
a holy being made from perfection and pressure
time is surely ticking until I let go of your hand

dear, dear, why do you scream?
I thought you no longer feared such trivial matters
feed me your soul and all of its shatters
oh? no no... this is not some dream

you wished for me to come, did you not?
I do as you ask and dangle you above death
yet here you are, clinging to me with all your strength
do not worry, your body will have use when I leave it to rot
"A LIL SPACE."

Just spare me
a lil space in thy
heart. I swear
you wouldn't
know when I'd
occupy the whole
place, for I'd
spread my whole
love seeds all over
thy heart.
Cultivating various
numerous vine
that makes
life commodious.
Only just
you and I.
I'd make you
always feel like
yourself. By
yourself baby
it's all you
could making
mine yourself.
I know you'd
make  a beautiful
world and it's
quite awesome
to live in
you as we lived
inon GOD.
You'd worship
mine God in
the alter.
We both did
say yes.
Your beautiful
mother shall
become mine mine
realist dad
did become your's.
And our love
will illuminate
the whole
world turned
into paradise,
till the last dying
days. Like
"The Dreamer
lad and the
dream lass"
or like
"Juliet and  Romeo"
just you and I,
high on Cloud
cockoo land a
sphere of
reality because
my love is
true and real,
for its from
the bottom of
the heart
underneath my
soul poured
the water of
my love.
Streaming down
our hearts
forming one
ocean upon
which our
love--ship did
voyage through
lifetime on
that trip
earning our
dreams together.
#C9_fm
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