I'm restless
and full of regret
in the way that only a Sunday night allows

I* am the one who owns this game
This game of cat and mouse; the chase
Not him, not them, not those
The men
Who think it is in their place

The ones who covet the loving gleam
In a woman’s drawn up eyes
But then tell her that she was no more
Than a *****, a ****; filthy pennies in disguise

They leave her rotten, confused, revised
Writing sickly poems of love and gore
Reflection in her puzzled heart
Rebuild the sloppy, slaughtered gears, restart and then restore

I have written those poems too,
When I bore marks of the lost and broken
whispered words, shaking from my lips,
of things yet unspoken

Now I need no more
For poetry unheeded brings more sorrow on which to thrive
And anyways poetry writes itself for me,
Cause I have eaten it, alive

I have learned the trades of love
And unlearned how to feel
I threw my heart away gladly
For the others I could steal

I am the one who pulls you in,
Not you, strong soldier, the statue,
clearly cut and manned
I am the one whose glistening strife
Slides, dripping, through your open hands

I have the voice, purring rolls of silk,
Emerald slants, gaudy blue feathered eyes
Lupines bloom upon my lips
And foxgloves on my thighs

I have the sterling studs of class
The cocky robin smile,
A drink like silver wine am I
From a savory crystal vile

I have the shift of gentleness,
A tender, blooming embrace
You hold nothing but trust in me
Adoration upon your disgusting face

But I know something you do not
That only I have the key
Patience until the shaking burst
A monster waiting to break free

She howls and rips your heartstrings raw
Ignores your pleading glance with glee
A smirk, a sneer, arched lips pause
Knowing your demise is our reward
We won’t stop until you cease to be

I have strength beneath my beloved monster’s wings
The power to bend with whip-like throw
Each man I take, battles for my neck
And I slaughter each, basking in the glow

We have done this for ages
Sold perfection, curving laces at every door
Like gypsies we steal what you cling to most
Our silver infused fingers beckoning for more

Love is no longer fun for us
We crave deception, challenged lies,
We’ll never give you what you want
Only slay your mind and watch as it dies

As the madness creeps on mottled claws
And you beg and plead curled up in pain
Letting us in through your wracking body rocks
A glimpse, peeled back to reveal the stain

So pound the floors as much as you want
Drag splinters from your drooling cavernous screams
Throw yourself away again and again
Cause I will never leave your mind,
Having sown myself into your dreams

I am what you think about
What you've sold every scrap of yourself for
But I am a fake, a mask, the satin covered machine
What you fear will reap your corrupted core.

You never knew that all I want
Is to take but never give
To ****** but never stay
The girl who steals your love to live
And buries it in your own decay

After every sumptuous feast,
We give a trill, a gauzy lilting stream
Notes lift our cool heads high
Poised waiting for the choking screams

And as we slide through fractured lives,
My monster and I
We ponder the day we'll wake in hell
Eagerly awaiting the reward for all our lies

For we're not scared of death or flames
Flickering bodies of damnation
Cause we know we’ll live forever
In those suffering from love starvation

--Lily

There is one thing that ought to be taught in all the colleges,
Which is that people ought to be taught not to go around always making apologies.
I don't mean the kind of apologies people make when they run over you or borrow five dollars or step on your feet,
Because I think that is sort of sweet;
No, I object to one kind of apology alone,
Which is when people spend their time and yours apologizing for everything they own.
You go to their house for a meal,
And they apologize because the anchovies aren't caviar or the partridge is veal;
They apologize privately for the crudeness of the other guests,
And they apologize publicly for their wife's housekeeping or their husband's jests;
If they give you a book by Dickens they apologize because it isn't by Scott,
And if they take you to the theater, they apologize for the acting and the dialogue and the plot;
They contain more milk of human kindness than the most capacious diary can,
But if you are from out of town they apologize for everything local and if you are a foreigner they apologize for everything American.
I dread these apologizers even as I am depicting them,
I shudder as I think of the hours that must be spend in contradicting them,
Because you are very rude if you let them emerge from an argument victorious,
And when they say something of theirs is awful, it is your duty to convince them politely that it is magnificent and glorious,
And what particularly bores me with them,
Is that half the time you have to politely contradict them when you rudely agree with them,
So I think there is one rule every host and hostess ought to keep with the comb and nail file and bicarbonate and aromatic spirits on a handy shelf,
Which is don't spoil the denouement by telling the guests everything is terrible, but let them have the thrill of finding it out for themselves.

I have a bone to pick with Fate.
Come here and tell me, girlie,
Do you think my mind is maturing late,
Or simply rotted early?

Here you see a man and a hand
A reflection of opposing forces
What is and what should never be
An unhealthy, God-awful endorsement

Afflictions corrode from within
Stone-fixed in self preservation
A shattered temple confined
Or anew flower creation

To live, love and be loved
Surrounded by color and contentment
To be lost in the shadows
The wrong side of saturation

Cracked,  battered, distorted and beaten
Shattered a mirror that opened a window
Shaped, fixed, filed and finished
Broken a bond revolved around no

A torn life set in stone
Here lies what are us
A life that should have never been
Metamorphosis of Narcissus.

The man who put bullet holes in the fabric of time waiting for you
Who scrawled lunacy all over the pages of history
Who started all the wars, murdered all the prophets, burned down empires
Who laughed “Apocalypse” at a billion futures
But let every opportunity slide by

The man who wrote your name on all the maps for hope of finding you
Who dammed up the rivers he had made so you wouldn’t see his tears
Who peered between saplings in forests he had planted to see if you were hiding there
Who sat by fires in newly opened taverns, telling tales of his search for you
But didn’t cross the road to knock on your door

The man who locked you in a tower to be the princess in his fairytales
Who cast himself as the dragon guarding you forever
Who lived off a diet of slow roasted questing knights, tall handsome features charred at the edges
Who antagonised himself in the kingdom of his own story
But never looked through the window to tell you why

The man who wrote his rulebook with the blood of his closest friends
Who proudly swore never to break Number One
Who even wrote a riddle to protect it from your words
Who drove himself insane with all the times that he stuck to it
But never realised it kept you from him

The man who made himself a crown of thorns from the dozen red roses he tried to send you
Who crucified himself with dreams of you
The man who was content to write you a love poem
But couldn’t tell you he loved you in person

You soothe all my aching pain
You cleanse me like refreshing rain
You leave behind a pleasant stain
You are sweet like sugar cane.
You teach my I've got much to gain
You keep my from riding in the tame lane
You allow me to be a little vain
And you love me as powerful as a freight train.
Our love is a smooth but scenic terrain
Though sometimes we go against the grain
Our passion is nothing close to plain
And more comfortable than a ball and chain.
I love you
Through thick and through thin
Though innocence and sin,
Like flowers to sunshine
It's not hard to define
I will love you
Like the sound of a rhyme
And hopefully, for a glorious time.