MORGANA IN THE MEDOW

I touch my snow plants
I fly over your anxieties
they pour out love on my limbs
and they fret to make me die
I wish you wouldn't look at me rapt
but become practical for a moment
you can't tell me to treasure
do what you want
I need to feel guided
from your fantasy of a woman who knows
back to a drunken time
of your soft skin
when I was willing for your precious smile
to give up the best part of me
when for your eyes of nothing
I was dragging along idiot and tired
when for all people
I was a loner
holy acrobat
for never asking you for anything
that went beyond your dimension
catastrophic and ridiculous at the same time
of a rich girl, a respectable girl
now my vein has run out
I swear I do not dare to speak
to make you feel bad a moment for good
to make you understand to be able to love
I asked my hitmen for money
I asked on my knees for a month's time
I have kept my promises and still
of your infidelity I am a monastic temple
I would never be able to continue
to still pretend to be a merchant of boredom
it is sold by weight or by the square meter
in my soul he is a true lacer
I'm still willing to do one thing love
old young vamp
to paint your myth of glory
to the hidden altar of cowardice
to console me by observing the image
of your dizzying hair
of the holy bibles of your womb
that I have too often confused with God.

WHEN THE SILENCE COMES

And maybe a silent night reads you better than a conversation that lasts hours. You carry silence inside you like someone who is afraid of talking too much because from an early age you have been told that people are jealous and that you must not rejoice too much in your fortunes otherwise others are unhappy. And allow the silence to come in because maybe you hope that he will give you the right words. In the silent night the silence speaks and you listen. Sometimes it screams, sometimes it makes your eardrums pop, sometimes it makes you cry, sometimes it chokes you because it gets too close. You carry silence with you as if you had a weight on your heart, as if you could not scream to chase it away. I see you walking with silence tangled around you, with each breath it tightens around your mouth. I see you panting for fresh air, for new words. And sometimes you find them, and the silence goes away, then you start breathing again, talking, saying you’re happy, but people are jealous, they are unhappy with you, and they scream, and they talk to you. You wonder how it is possible that silence has no effect on them. You wonder why you didn’t follow the advice they gave you since childhood. Ask yourself, ask the void and the sky, you think a lot and too much. And, in that moment, silence attacks you again.

BEING STRONG

One morning you wake up and just at the exact moment that fraction of a second just before setting your foot on the ground you understand what you really want, what are you willing to put up with and what not, what or who are you willing to put aside because the thing is to One way street… And everything that crushed you until the night before, made you sick becomes the past. Important and non-erasable part of your life, but past. Something you don’t want to hear anymore. There is a greater awareness of who we are and what we want. The road ahead will be long and often difficult, but having chosen ourselves for once and not others will make us feel better. People will never stop judging every step you take, without wondering why you are doing it, or for the person you are inside, they can only see what they want to see without really looking at you. You may be the coldest person on this planet, but do you really want to hide behind a mask to look strong? Is it really so important to show yourself for what you are not? Do you really think you are that strong? We all have weaknesses, fears, insecurities, but we are never alone. Someone tried to reach out to you to help you, why didn’t you take it? You think you can handle everything by yourself don’t you? But is not so. Nobody is alone in this world, you have to get help from someone, you can’t carry all the problems on your shoulders, friends, family, a point of reference, it helps not to keep all the load on your shoulders, let someone take a little ‘weight off your shoulders, you will feel lighter. For me, being strong is like an armor that over time, through mistakes and experiences, you learn to fortify. Being strong is also understanding, for example when a situation repeats itself several times, you learn to manage it and not feel bad about it, when people disappoint you several times, you learn to know how to behave should it happen again, without spending too much time cursing you. I do not consider myself a totally strong person, we all have moments when weakness makes us fall .. you are never completely strong, emotions are too strong feelings to make you feel “invincible”. I don’t always feel strong, it also depends on the topic, but I try.

NEFELE

Nefele was sitting in her garden. Nephele watched the green walnuts fallen on the grass. She was bored and sad. By now he had had no contact with his parents for seven months. He did not know how to resist memory and nostalgia. He felt an enormous weight on his heart. Having to pretend nothing was terrible for her. When Thomas called to remind her of the party that evening, Nefele snorted. She was tired of all those parties. They all looked the same. She wanted something different. He got up from his chair and entered the house through the French door that opened onto the garden. Then he went up to his room to bathe and choose a pretty sexy dress for the evening. But he had no desire to show off. Then she chose a black dress and a rock crystal necklace. He looked in the mirror and gave himself a touch of purple lipstick. Thomas was ready and went into the room shivering. 《You are my divine sister tonight. ” Nefele turned and looked at him well. 《Save compliments on your pick tonight.》 At each party Thomas eyed a girl and seduced her. It wasn’t a difficult task since he was a beautiful boy.