

Wooed with wordsI could be wooed with words; I know I could. I cant think of a thing I could not forgive If you wrote me a sonnet the way Will would... If through words you would make me live. If you were a master of metre and rhyme I would be at your feet in a beat. Make me dance to your song, make me keep your time, Let your words be the drug that I need. If you sang an elegy like Poe on my grave, I believe I would die for you. And whatever abuse and bad words you gave, If you rhymed them, Id love them, too. Spread a blanket of blank verse over my eyes It would coverWooed with words


So There She LaySo there she lay, her porcelain skin pale against the dark linen. Her eyes were closed, as if to seal off her thoughts from his gaze, blond lashes like curtains over the windows of her soul. He leaned at the door, sweetening his steaming coffee with her image. There had only been enough for one cup, but he knew she wouldnt mind, he knew she wouldnt have wanted coffee anyway, even if he had asked, even if shed been awake.So There She Lay
He had to smile. Wasnt it strange how intimately he seemed to know her, already, after the first night they had ever spent together? But it had always been like that. There were people wit


A Letter of GoodbyeI am watching you... You cannot see me, but I can see you through this colourful nothing of a silk curtain. I am watching you while I am crouching on the floor, writing this letter my last one. I have always watched you when you were down there, talking to your friends and business associates. Women see more than men can know, and I have learned more about you by watching silently than by talking to you. Men do not know how to talk to women. You either treat us as children or as another species and we are neither. We are like you, only different.A Letter of Goodbye
And now I am watching you, as you gently stir the poison into my cup.


HomesickLass sie nicht sehen, wie du blinzelst So sagte meine Mutter, sieh, warum Es mir unangenehm ist auszugehen wenn meine Augen trocken sind Ich habe kein Geschick mit Pinseln. Die Farben Trocknen aus und verschütten sich, glänzend wie Gischt auf den Felsen; Der Lehrer streicht mir den Schimmer weg Von den nackten Armen. Die Kinder flüsternHomesick
Hinter den Armen des Seesterns. Sie gehen zum Spielen In den sonnigen und warmen Garten, aber ich bleibe hier, wie Mama
Es mir gesagt hat. Unter dem Fenster ist ein Aquarium Voller goldener Fische, die umherjagen, ständig,


All hailAll hail, King of the Abyss, Ruler of Lost Souls!All hail
All hail, my Lord, Sovereign of the Seven Circles of Hell!
All hail...
Stop that rubbish. What do you think youre doing?
Im hailing thee, oh Lucifer, Bringer of Light and Loss!
I said, stop it. Im not Lucifer, and you know that. Its not something to joke about.
If you are not Lucifer, my Lord, then how come I do see your limp, do spy the hoof you so skilfully try to hide from the view of mortals?
What hoof? Have you gotten mad? Its those books youre reading.
That ho


BeautyBeauty, like a withered willow, Lies unto her velvet pillow Her maiden head. In her deep and dreamless sleep Nevermore the child shall weep; Her woes are dead.Beauty
Eternal peace my love has found In her bed beneath the ground. Earth cover it. Her awakening I wont crave: In this dark and holy cave We do both fit.
Still entwined, through joy and sorrow, My mind and hers need no tomorrow: Together we hide. Though our bodies be divided, I will, by affection guided, Find her side.
She already knows our home. I wi
What have you done?

With Your Heart's BloodTo write a good song, you have to write it with your heart’s blood, that was what Mateo had been told over and over again. His heart’s blood… All the other bards used ink, just like him, and they always came up with something new, something brilliant, or at least something beautiful. If they could do it, he had to be able to do it, too. So he sat there and tried to write, searching in vain for that unfailing fountain of inspiration that others seemed to possess. Where was his heart’s blood? It didn’t seem to flow like theirs.With Your Heart's Blood
But the contest was up ahead. Tonight was the last night he had to write a song for the contest, the las
Battle Mage
Alteria - a poster

On the TrainI stepped into the underground train and froze. This couldn’t be, this was impossible, I thought, but then I realized that my eyes had fooled me, that it was not my sister slumped on the dirty plastic seat, sleeping or meditating with closed eyes. It had to be someone looking like her, but of course it wasn’t her, couldn’t be, because she died a year ago.On the Train
I sat down opposite to the girl whose too-familiar looks had scared me so. I took a book out of my backpack and started reading. The train would take some time to get me to my destination, and I was confident to finish the chapter I had begun waiting at the station. But I couldn’t con


So lonelyI am lonely …So lonely
So lonely …
I have been lonely for an eternity, it seems …
And yet this is only the beginning of eternity …
Is this hell? Something I’ve wondered about often. Maybe it is; I certainly deserve to be in hell. I only imagined it somewhat different. With eternal fires, and torture, and the like. Not like this. This … nothingness. But God is inventive, they say. Said.
But then – if it were hell, wouldn’t I be forced to repent my sins? I repent nothing. I suffer, yes, and some might say I suffer justly for what I did, if there still was anybody who could say anything. But


Only a Dream Away„We had it all ...Only a Dream Away
We did not know it, but we had it all, all that we would ever need.
And we gave it away, oh, we threw it away. How could we? We did not know, that is our explanation, but it is no excuse.
We were so happy that summer, only a life ago. And we never knew. We had all needed, we had each other, and a tent at the seaside, and enough to live on. But we wanted more, we thought there could be more, should be more, fools that we are.
So we broke up, left our little tent, our home, left the sea, left Italy, where we would have been able to survive on amore and the tourists. We thought we could have more, a


Eine SommernachtEine SommernachtEine Sommernacht
Die Nachmittagsluft flimmerte in der brütenden Hitze, die über der Stadt lastete. Die sonnenverbrannten Stunden schleppten sich zäh dahin und schienen kaum vorübergehen zu wollen. Als endlich die Nacht die ersehnte Kühlung brachte und der Cafébesitzer, ein Mann in mittleren Jahren und schon nicht mehr im vollen Schmuck seiner Haare, sein Lokal schließen wollte, um in der Kneipe nebenan ein wohlverdientes Bier zu genießen, belebte sich die Stadt auf einmal mit etwas anderem als den schwitzenden Touristen des Tages. Zwei neue Kunden betraten das Café, und da die offizielle Öffnungszeit noch nicht vorüber war, ließ


A Tale Of One NightI had knelt a long time at my parents' grave. A sudden gush of grief had seized me, taken my thoughts away, and when I found back to reality my knees where stiff and the sun had already met the horizon. I stood up and walked towards the exit of the cemetery, but I didn't feel like going home already, and as the air was still warm, I sat down on a wooden bench under an old weeping willow.A Tale Of One Night
My thoughts trailed off again. Suddenly I noticed a young woman who came out of the path opposite my place. She came to the bench and silently sat down next to me. I looked at her. She was very thin and pale, with blond hair that seemed almost wh