quiet fairytalesShe was the witch, he was the peasant with a princes heart.Her skin was a shadow, her eyes coal. Her beauty was derived from distortion, her heartbeat was phantom.Still, he yearned for her. Even if her heart was but a mere imprint, he wanted it.She feared him. He wielded love, the only thing she was incapable of conjuring. And so the fairytale was shattered to hatch a mere story.
sleep wellLeaves don the shades of fall. The sun falls, golden. The air is crisp. It smells like dessert in city square.Suddenly, people are alive, either with worry or exhilaration. Or the odd type of nostalgia that makes you want to take risks. The lyrics to love songs come to light, and, believe it or not, theyve ceased to be cliché. Perhaps youve stumbled upon an understanding Amidst coffee cup rings
is it a crimeDo you dream, do you dream. No.Yes you do. Yes you do. You just cant remember them. Why cant you remember them.I dont bother to.Oh, but I dream. And things are so beautiful in my dreams. I know foreign languages and I can do magic. I rarely fly, though I hear on TV that many people have flying dreams. But I float, see. Im in my body and floating at the same time. I think thats better than flying.Sometimes, bad things happen to me in my dreams. I never die, though. I wake up. Or I forget I died and move on to another dream. Recently, the wounds in my dreams have begun to bring me pain. They never have before. But theres another side to it. I can taste now, see. I can taste my favorite foods without taking in the calories and I can taste y