Unfeeling
Undisturbed
In simply the worst of times
Potentially leaving others reeling
Or in my stead disturbed
Whilst leading on conversation
How is it all so?

Am I to be assuming
That it is encouraged
To put on a painted mask
Of emotions, when the fact of the matter
Is that there is nothing existing behind it?
Nothing more than a blank, slippery canvas
That simply cannot be painted upon

- Jay M
February 2nd, 2021

without heartache
how would i ever know love?
and if not for misery
could i be happy?
it is the duality
that makes the one
good
and the other
bad
they each contrast one another
for without contrast
our painting would be colored canvas
blank, totally devoid of any deeper meaning

your hands explore my body
like a paintbrush on the canvas

we stand here making melody
that might or might not last its hype

I am a blank canvas, you are amazing. I'm inspired by you, but feel like a non creative painting. Open my eyes, please, let me see. Who am I really meant to be, what fate has been decided. I know I'm art, but can I be guided. Nothing spoken from the heart is crooked, but how long has the author spent on me, they didn't love me as much as you. I don't know how I don't know why but just the sight of makes me leap into the sky. Your the only thing that makes me happy, and I'm no longer a blank canvas. Like a flower blooming, or a caterpillar coming out of it's cocoon, I am now something of beauty, and I owe it all to you.

Sticky red blood in my foes
As I cut their flesh off,
Smelly rotten red liquid
Paints the white canvas in the room.

Silvery traces etched across the canvas
the red seeping back
that once decorated the space before

tears no longer blue but grey
ripping apart the canvas that wraps you in tendrils
No longer is anything left to take

You've already destroyed that.

When I first saw you
I felt as if you were the girl I've been looking for
I had waited almost all my life for this moment to arrive
And when it did,
All I had to do was spread the colours of love on my canvas and seize the beauty of the moment forever.

But never in my heart, I felt you were mystifying  
The harder I tried to love you, the more you slipped into your shell
There was something special about you, something I couldn't decipher
And for the very first time, I failed at art

It was an idle evening
And I was sitting in the lap of Past
Resting my head on her chest
As she slightly moved her hands through my hair.

I told her about....when I painted
With colours and brushes....a colourful world of mine
When canvas and sheets were drenched with bright colours
Bright colours like red, yellow, green, orange and so on.

But now...I can't even recognize them
They are lost in some dusty drawers
Somewhere I can't even remember
Now I live in a world of black and white
White pages drenched with black ink...

Did I lose my bright colours?
Or am I just homing in this black and white world of mine?