paint me into scenes of monet waters
kissed by water lily wishes

The bookshelves around the television sound like ancient mothers telling their stories through yellowed, crinkled pages of spells and the angels give guidance
Silently,graciously
through the cards while they display their faces to the room, quietly pleading and waiting for you to read them.
Hear what they have to say,
whisper through your ears and listen through your mouth, the angels are speaking dear.
Pray if you must, and the Gods have blessed the birdcage to open and release the iced ****** Mary that has slept away her winter cold.
She stands tall, with grace and without shame of her ****-ness and she looks at you.
Her mouth opens to speak, but it sounds like space.  
She’s shocked and squeezes her hand down her throat to pull the phrase out.
Her hand comes up and a lily petal lays soft in saliva.
She looks to you again, and when your eyes meet,
She chokes and gags.
Stumbles to her knees, the ****** Mary spews up lily petals now.
Your throat is burned from bile climbing up.
a faint smell of lily flowers and you blink.
You are on your knees, skin cold without cloth, and you try to shout “help, let me out!”
But the only thing that comes from your mouth is lily petal after lily petal.
A card slides in front of you, number III of Swords.
'Dear Mary, climb back to your cage and you are safe in there. No wretch may touch you with heartbreak and reject, come home Dear Mary,
It is you whom i select.'

If you're looking for a reason not to **** yourself tonight, this can be it.

Sometimes, we feel as if nothing matters.
We all do.
So i made a list of a few of my own reasons,
13 Reasons Why
I'm still alive.
And hopefully you'll change your mind.
Those moments you feel happy, and nothing but lucky.
And you wish nothing will ever change.
I will try my best.

Reason 6, Lillie
I might've mentioned it once or twice, this name, person, mind. This is probably one you can't relate to much. But maybe I can make you feel as if it does. I once heard this beautiful voice, that said my name. Well, it wasn't even my actual name. Just a nickname. You said: "Lillie, what you you think?" While you showed me one of your drawings. I was in love within a second. That beautiful voice, that one word never left my mind since. I wish it did though. It's killing me, Like i'm slowly suffocating. Lily's are pretty flowers. But are the dead ones too? Or can't you see that the flowers are turning into dust? Can't you see i'm struggling staying alive just like the flowers? Can't you see you never call me lillie anymore? Can't you see where i'm going?
I'm turning into dust.
You're the reason,
I'm doing this to myself.
So are you the reason,
I'm saving myself.

Can a broken heart,
be compared to a lily field,
where every stem a sword it wields,
their smiles sweet, their words bitter?

Can aching feet,
be compared to footprints in the sand,
from days of old and days of man,
where journeys traveled over yonder?

Can a hoarse voice,
be compared to howls of dark wolves,
cinnamon tasteless and not of cloves,
when taste buds are uselessly used?

Can red dry eyes,
be compared to blazing suns,
ones that do not walk, but do not run,
and never fly faster than the wind?

Can a senseless poem,
be compared to fickle hearts,
where it depends on a person's part
in their imagination?

Pathetic warrior...
Down to the meadow
of the valley you went

To fulfil the dire task
of thy nation and
cut the scarlet heads
of those foul lilies

You stand alone
provoking the mighty wind
into a single combact

Viewers of that requiem
are merely the mountains
and the streams

enigmatic, exotic
alone, deep in the jungle
fierce, afraid
passion, love in her eyes

to hold her, is to lose her
to have her, is to **** her
ephemeral, a ghost
a dream, a fantasy
never to be had