laura-lepida

A young woman named Camilla loved making art, and practiced chiselling all day long to become the very best in all her town. But one day, she was completely stumped. She looked around her room, full of art pieces featuring mystical figs, sci-fi landscapes of a futuristic Philadelphia, and a portrait of Tom Cruise that looked so real, you could start a conversation with it. But nothing inspired her. Had she really created everything there was to create? Depressed, she looked out her window, and made a wish on a nearby acorn for inspiration to return to her. The next morning, she sprung out of bed, and used her skill in chiselling to create the

At the first glance through your doubt grew, looking closer you sought meaning in the words, their pattern, screening is a game you never outgrew. Meaning may create confusion about these stains on pallid blankness, which may cause the harsh delusion that their task was tough and thankless. Show some gratitude by reading on, accepting their misleading image, it won't make this better, but you'd understand the letter. Fed line by line, chewed bit by bit and now it's over. And that's it.

Girls' love is a fire It burns so sweet, As the leather engraves lovely charms in my skin! Coming closer to finding new heavens within, To clouds of heat, Here I wait for your help on my hands and my feet, Unveiled to sin, Lest one drives me away from your heartwarming beat Held back - give in... Understanding takes time. For weeks I'm scarred, for you I'm scorched To the soul, we're in chime, At last you'll leave me newly forged. Girls' bodies desire... it burns us down. Night made you my queen, be those flames your crown!

Down here with love From Juliet's balcony I greet you, passerby, to ask you in for cups of tea and something sweet. You looked quite tasty to my uncorrupted eye. Ignore the voice of doubt, get tricked into your treat and let us talk about the matters of my life. I felt so pretty when you first approached my heart, all through the game until you tore it right apart and choked me. Now I'm left devoid like Theseus' wife. I then agreed to have you bury my remains in kisses, coloring your lips with vivid liquor from ancient wells. That's going straight into your veins. Again our minds collide. It sounds so weird, I'd snicker. Oh please, I'm just

A puke into the mirror I look and see that you can't be my friend, I touch my soul, some things are whole no more. Some things I'll miss, I figure this the end. The God we schemed has always seemed a whore. Before I leave, a handkerchief to clean me should help deceiving those yet grieving what's been me. I loved you dearly, standing near me, but you've gone. And still I wait and scorn my hate on and on. In life, someday we all betray ourselves. The lawyers lie, the healthy die from a stroke, the literate-lookin' guard each book in their shelves, our neighbours shun us, what we've done was live a joke. As Death crept close, he br

All the hate in the world See that girl there, sir? Want to stay with her? But yor sight makes her hurl. All the hate in the world has this beautiful girl cowered ghastly and curled. Do you feel for her? Please be gentle, sir. It may seem that she shivers and screams, but beware, like a foretelling dream, like a tear flowing forth in a stream, this young girl isn't all that she seems. What I ask you, sir, can you see through her? All the hate in the world can't purchase you a girl just as buried and burled, like the fragilest pearl. Yet I'm lending her to you dearest sir. Since she bore you around when she hurled out the

fairification into the cold my stride is driven lest i'm forgiven gaily i strolled from shy to shiver short of a river i want to cry to fly to die so that i may in any way escape from this paralysis sweet floating things if i am worth to walk this earth lend me your wings your home above a place to love to live to stay out of the grey i turn my face from your embrace to leave this path i'm stuck upon but not be gone.

Dusting It's yesterday, I'm in my room. The passing time has left its traces everywhere. I cannot touch a thing, nor move a muscle without being stained. Once in a while the density around me reaches for my brain and blocks my lungs. This time I'll wipe the dust away. Although asleep it's but a film invisible to man, I have to wake it up, remove it. You cannot see, you cannot tell, you will not hear how much it hurts me. Besides, it is my life, I'll have to bear with it, they say. In haste I let my finger taste the wounding dirtwool. The molecules appear to just have waited for this moment, so to flock together, form a mass. As I b