JJ-stache

, , ,

‘unctuous,

Now,

Breath the shallow air,

flow with the waves of the sea,

linger over the scent of despair,

and be conscious of your spree.

Thus,

The guidance of my heir

is the heart of my darkness,

broken, fragile,

and the last of its kind.

What was not promised

became the identity of my fallout.

Therefore,

With my last hope do I pray to my stars

As they are my enlightenment

That shadows my last doubt.

Now,

I became one of thee

Bright, lucid

and one of the many upon the sky.

What I pledge to my earth

was beyond my desolation

as the last drought.

 

‘This Sunday,

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