At night, I'm afraid to dream
of warmth and nostalgia and light;
fleeting moments of joy you brought into my life. Only to wake up knowing it was a memory; that my walls are no longer kissed with golden sunshine, that my days no longer consist of your sweet messages of love and empathy and hope.

At day, I am numb and fixated on your death. I bargain reality; dozing off, speculating scenarios of what could've been. My despair like a whirlpool of devastation; of loving thoughts and regret that I'm clawing to get out of only to sink deeper and deeper. I am trapped in a constant cycle of overwhelming sadness and feeling nothing at all.

At all times, I miss you, loved one.
I miss you as the sun misses blue skies at night and the moon misses stars at day. My soul searches for yours through my memories and passing thoughts. But your presence has left me in this lonely world, and I ache for the time we are finally united again.

I mourn you, I pray for you.
I promise you
With all that I am, I love you.

still regret how I treated you
all those years ago
underappreciating
the love you've shown me
throughout the many years
through our ups and downs
laughs and cries
I can't help but miss you
I don't want to say goodbye

I'm Outstanding in a field
While out standing in a field

....with these teachers
C̵͍̞̓̄r̸̛͖̣͙̋̀ë̵̝͔́ä̶͎͕͉̈́t̶̢̠̍ͅǔ̵̹̠̖̊͠r̴̜̙̗̊̀e̷̡̢̜̕s̵̒­͖͚̿ and prophets

You'd think its an easy hike,
but its more seagoing

I see, means my ego pre-going:

Just Color coding as another motif to talk with
No Shovel loading this buffer coating some mock spit

Of Sirrus winds and summer loving...
Was it other living or utter loathing?

No component, Native I'm Buffaloing
Icarus took the fire and I took the flowin


We've got the water  ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝ ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ n̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ n̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ ì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ ṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀ g̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝
Is it fear or love?

Got the mother-loving
is it dear or turtle-dove?

Talking in terms of
inhaling foxglove

Stuck in the mud asking:

What's the size of....
What are we in the Light of?

Still:
Growing like a d̶̰̊̿̈́̓̿̿̑̈́͆̈̅̕a̵̻̤̒̅͛̿̀̎͘i̷͎̜̰̯͆̏̚s̵̡̢̼̺̬̬̖͚̦͍̠͑̀̀̃̀͌́͛̈́̌͝ȳ̴̑͋͘­̞͖͓̝̥̭̥̖̔̎̀͗ ̸̢̪͍̠͕̩̥̒̍̓͋̈̐͊̂̎̓͝ ̵̡͇̳̦̦̥̰̝̐͐͌̐̓͐̈̏̀͘̕ ̶̡̨̟̼̺̺̝͇̍̀̓̓̏͌́͗̓̂͆͠

Growing like my Day Be
more than Dimebag lately


Growling like I'm Day Z̶̯̲̹̠̙̊̏́͗̿̎̅͗͐̿̃


Standing tall // Just Massing Nation
Is it all in my Imagination?

Fountain passion Claim free
Mountain Fashioned hazily

Passion Painting with Green Sea
Ripples passing freely through the sword

I be puffin on a horn like G̶̹͎̓̄̃͛͂͐͐a̵̻͕͔̯̹̿̕͝b̶̧̛͔̙͙̰̭̯̥̩̉̅̅̿̂̃r̴̝̞͎͂͗̈ĭ̴̘̈́̄̽̃͂̑́̈́͘͠ẽ̷̑­̧̞̹̮̌͛̂́̀͝ḷ̶̢̡̭̫͉̬͇̀͜ ̸͚̳̘̜̫̱͖͂̇̓̈́̂̽͂̀̒
(Pfu du duu do duuuu)
Tougher than....
~imagining

All the rougher
when we matching wings
Most people here
~just gather things

Always stuffing torn like here we go:


(̷̛̰̼͕̰͊̂͆̿̅̀͝F̴̧̛͎͎̹͕̬͔͉̃͆̄̎͛̈͋͆̓̇͝ͅū̸̪͎̦̻͕̼͉̼͇̤̄̀̏̓̅͗͌ ̸̧͚̝̟͎̺̝̱͉̓͝ḑ̷̧̰̞̪̥͊̈̑̑̔͋͐͜͝͝ų̵̢̮̙͙̭̫̤̤̖̽̄̈́̀͒̅̀̕͜͝͠ ̷̨̨̥̩̘̱̘̓̉̈̈͌̃͊́̾̚͘d̷̺͛͂̏͑̂͛̊͛͘͝u̷̧͉̹̟͎͉̎̓̎̌ú̵̢̪̺̱̥͆̅́̄̈́̈̚͝ ̷̨̝̥̫̣̻͚̍̍͊͛͌̃͌̀̆̃̚͜͠ḑ̵̡̛͚͚̩͓̼̲͇̮͑̃̅͗̿̓͐͝ͅõ̵̢̰͎̹̥̫̺͍̎́͌̓ ̵͚̺̼͇͔̻̫͇̤̆̔͛͐͆̀̚͝ḑ̴̻̪̉̍͌̽̿̚̚̚ͅư̶̛̘͔̹̰̈́͒͑̍͐̎̈̈́̒͜û̶̬̮̙͍̺̬̯̻͌̂̌­͚̺ͅu̴̞̫͓̭̮̽̽͌̊̄̃̔̎̃͘͠͠ŭ̷͎̎̉̆̈́̚͠)̷͖͔͔̤̗̋͛͜


Come and tumble
Hear how can it sing...

All the colors, Smatterings
Can't muck with my energy

Mastered the art of astral projection
Grinding rice with mortar and pestle

Just to Vortex the best view
Motor no next to you

Torn from the best of true

R̶̯̞͕̭͠͝e̴̳̗̍͒ͅä̷͎̬́̀̋̂̕l̴̼͇̗̈́̿̈ỉ̶̙͔̤̓t̵̩͚͎̥͕͓̍̏̌̉ẏ̸̫͌ worn for the rest of you.

Rolling free with no potent fees
Taking liberties with the energies


Got the water      ̶̧̧̼̖͙͔̹̻͕͖̠̤̓͊̆͋̐̓͂̄̊̚̕͠r̵͍͔̮͒̿̎́̊̈́͝R ũ̸͖͇̟̯̅̌̈́̕͠ Un̵̲̤̙̜̑̑̽͑ Nn̵̡̺̪͎̯̫͐́̉͜͜ Nì̷̺͍̹́̓̈́ Nṉ̸̣̪͓̗̤́̈̊̈́̀Gg̵͓̲̺̙̘̤̞̦̺̥̓͋̈̇͌̈́̃́͂̍͝
Is it fear or love?

Got the mother-loving
is it dear or dote?
More like do or don't.

Floating on the shore like: Heeere we go.
Blowing on a horn with Gabriel :






(̴̨̳̙͕̲̤̮͕̖̅͐̄̍͒́̎̋̌̈́̾͑̆͑̊̿̃̓͛̓̒͘͜͝F̴̧̢̹͎̖̼̝͚̤̥̖̓̏̾̔̉͗̈́̕͝­̨̰̭͕̳̖̩̘̜̝̩̟̠̩̝̘̰͎̜̮͖ͅͅ  ȗ̶̡̳͕̘̲̜̳͖͉̍̍͂̈͆̉͗̎̈́͗̓́̑͊̋́͗̿͐̍̏̋̓̓͊̿̚͠­͇̮̟̪̬̜̜̩̥̻̝̭͓̥   ̷̢̹͙̫̜̝̲͖̹̪͓̲̫̟̹͎̖̦̝̳͌̏̐̽̀̉̇̒͗́͑́͑͐̈͌̿͐̍̒̒̌̀̈͑̃̅͋̌͛͂̔́̀̍́̎̅̚̚͘͝ͅͅ­̧̙͎͍͍̱̳̼̗͎̻͖̰̘̻͈̲ḑ̶͇͎͖̝̠̃̎̀̂͂́̀͂̄̐̍̆̈́́̈́̈̏̈́̉̿͒͋̈́̓̾̍̆̍̈͊͂̐̒̀̚͜͝͝͝͝­̧̢͈͍̫̰̝̯͔͉̝͓͚̭͖̻͓̗̬̺̞̖͈̜͍̹̜̺̩͈ û̷͚̻̟̰͈̒̊͒̀̿̾͋̒͌̊̾̇̉́͆̅͒̈́̈̾̓̑͗̃̈́̓̄̀́́̽͗͘̚̕͘͝ ̵̡̢̢̡̢̘͍͉͕̠̮̤̗̻͈̯͙̲̳͎̪̹̗͓͈̟͕͇̃͒̋͒͒̉͊̎̂̽̋͋̈̀͊̅̔̒͐̋́͐̏͑͋͌͛̇͛̓̄̄̍͐ͅd­̸͔͕̞̪̝̖̩͂̂̎̀͐͒̿͘ư̶̡̩͙͇̥͈͔̮̟͕̺͙̈̅̽̍̒͌͛͑͋̉̿̎̂̿́̈́̊͗̄̔̎̏̑̂̔̊̈́̕͝ͅ ư̸̧̡̼͈̲̰͓̹̗̩͓͙̹̯̹͊͐̒̾̆́̍̒̓͑̍̈́͆̉̀͘ ̷̢̧̺̩͕̟̙̳̜̩̗͔̻͕͈̥͈͖̩͇͈̠͉̩̈́̃̌̈́͌̇͂̓̐̇̍̏́̋̔͂̈́́̒̽́̓̓̚͜͜͝͠͝ d̷͔̮͓͖̉ ờ̷̧̨̡̛̛͓̗͉̪͖̼̜̬̜̦͎̻̙̖̣̠͈̳͊́̈́͊͋͊̉̈͒̔̐̄̌̎̀̈́̊̋̉̏̒̑͗͋̓̔̉̓̋͒̇͘͘͝͝͠͠ͅ­ ̷̳̦͙͙̤̺̜̥̖̬̮̰͈̣̗̙̮̬̈́̈́̾̂͆̓̈́ͅͅ d̵̛̳͈̗̋͊̓̒̅̿́͗́̒̂̈́̌͋̄̀́̌̄̈́͛͋̊̎̈́̓̉̕͠͝͝͠͝͠ư̵̾͆̄̋̅̂̃͒͛̿̐͒̿̊̌̓̈̅̕͝͝͠­̘͚͔̫̮̭̖̱̞͔̦̩̹̱̺̺̝̬͖̜̼̬̮͎͚̪̼̯̫̳̜̙͓̥͎̳̥̻̃̒̈̈́̎̿̓͘͜͝͝ ư̴̡̧̢̧̦̭͍̮̜͓̫̪͇̖̤͙̻̮͉̭̯̙̞̥̗̱̩̞̞̼̟̈́͆̏͆̌̉̀͛͆͐͛̇̇̍̓̔̄͂͌̿̒̄́̌̕̚̕̕̕͝͝­̱̟̦͚̼̲̼͚͈ ų̵̧̛͉̺̜͎̜̩͖̲̟͔̬̦̤̖͎̫͔͖̮͕̗̼͙̫̼̭̦͕̫͖͉̆͐̾̑͂͋͂̎̊͗̈́̂̕͘͜͝ͅͅ ư̶̛͙̠͆̓̃̀̍̄̔̄̇͗̀́̐́̌͂̋̑̏̄̑̕͠͠͝͝͝)̵̛̛͌́̈́̑̂̌̈͐͐͊̈́̇͐̍͒̓̓̀͐̃̆͐̓̍̕̕̕͝­̨̡̧̙͚̪̬̤͕̥̳̥̱̞̺͎̫̩̀̐̃͑̕͝

There is a story
Still to be written
Told of two bound by soul
Some say it glory
Others say it rather smitten
Quite the perfect roll
If fate were but a set of dice

T'is a tale of an old, mortal soul
Bound to that of which can only be described as an angel
In moments once tired and cold
Burning by the embers of strange coal
Hearts as tides rose and then fell
To linger and rise once again

- Jay M
February 26th, 2021

A haggard angel
Stands behind my back.
Is it me or you?
For three decades
She had graced me
With words of love
And fits of anger.
I helped create her
And yet hurt her .
And suddenly, she turns
Away from me,
Still loving me, I think.
But all she wants,
She tells me bitterly,
Is to be alone.
She leaves and I wonder
If she will ever return.
I stand on a garish train,
Thunderstruck, unmoving,
As I watch her storm away.
Suddenly, I feel what she does—
The pain and sadness.
I created her long ago
And know why she is livid.
And now she returns the hurt,
Leaving me as the empty one,
My insides vacuum up sorrow.
Am I now the angel,
Fallen and haggard?

Roses of glass fall from the skies
As, for you, Heaven weeps and cries
Nobel blood, crimson as dark wine
Drips down your still unbent spine
Your wings of ash, that overcame hate
Now broken and apart, as they were torn by fate
Sleep, sleep sweetheart, and dream of my love
That will always be beside you, when you'll rise above
Lay down, close your eyes, but do not cry
Because in my heart, you'll always be alive
Pillars of stone scratching in clouds of white
May you not be seen as ash, but phoenix bright
Finally raising to the sun and stars, that shine warm light
It has found an end, your everfight
Rest your head, too heavy to lift, in my lap
Close your eyes, close the gap
Now, sweetheart, rest in peace, and don't be afraid
You don't need no more to fight, you can drop your blade
Fall asleep, my sweet angel, that Heaven sent
Leave, go to Elysium, for this is not the end
Fly, and rise to the sun, elevated by this freedoms breeze
Run free, laugh, cry, and find a lasting peace

— White leopard; gold angel speaks
In soft, her mildew-honey tune:
And up upon that gorgeous face,
A sunny clime of hair she blew:

Sneering lips, and men wonder why
At each moment she pounce' in wait:
Dare not the eyes that which she bore,
Those black-beetled minds oft' elate.

And peach-moon skin still catches eyes
Of mine, which cannot fend— and yet,
In all known moments when she sighs
They bathe a room in sunny rend.

And ne'er forget will I that common gleam,
— That gold-white leopard I rarely see.