lost in the white ocean by Stolen-Luck, literature
Literature
lost in the white ocean
lost in the white ocean of linen
i find your lips and kiss them deeply;
just enough to wake you from your sleepy stateyour eyes lock mine and we dance in a wonderland
while our curious fingers outline zig-zags on our bashful bodies
we decode it like grail
its a map on an never ending quest of passion.
Conceptual Nude of the Homeless Man by Stolen-Luck, literature
Literature
Conceptual Nude of the Homeless Man
A young woman named Emily Focker IV loved making art, and practiced Conceptual Nude Photographing 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 Pastel Colors, sci-fi landscapes of a futuristic New York City, and a portrait of The President Barack Obama 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 Homeless Man for inspiration to return to her. The next morning, she sp...
My great-grandfather used to tell me, "Don't chase after the darkness because you'll only end up with a false expectation in your heart." I never quite understood his advice until one Easter Sunday, I was gardening with my best friend Audrey. All of a sudden, we found an underground tunnel! It was eerie and spooky sounds came from deep within. Audrey saw something interesting inside, jumped in, and I never saw her again. Great-granddaddy was right!
lost in the white ocean by Stolen-Luck, literature
Literature
lost in the white ocean
lost in the white ocean of linen
i find your lips and kiss them deeply;
just enough to wake you from your sleepy stateyour eyes lock mine and we dance in a wonderland
while our curious fingers outline zig-zags on our bashful bodies
we decode it like grail
its a map on an never ending quest of passion.
Listen to the trillions of particles utter incantations in unrecognizable tongues while I trace our initials into the soil.Be overwhelmed.Be intimidated by these foreign forgotten vocabularies that creep from the ground and delicately into our ears.All I want to do his hush your lips with mine while we lay in the earth so you can listen.
I would imagine that my lips feel soft against your dry chapped ones.
The peeling forsaken skin correspond to the stiff jagged mountain peaks that punch into the clouds relentlessly.
Plateaus of smoother areas gift me with scenery that is breathe taking and un-riveting, nonetheless dangerous.You are like nature. Complex and scary beautiful.