i ve walked out of my house
slowly,yet surely, ariving at the rose garden
the sky is blue, yet i can t see it
the green vines painted with red blood climbed on the roof.
i sit down in the middle of it as i wait.
and wait..
my phone is ringing inside the palace
in the big black palace.
ring ring ring
i m not there to pick it up.
my subject are giving me marigod bouquets
when all that s i m wishing for are some poppies
not even a handfull
just one or two red poppys.
The fisherman,provider of our food
are feeding me non leathel tetrodetoxid.
the queen is shoving it down my troat.
terodetoxid.
now i m in the church
looking at the paintings on the wall.
my poor anima sola
is resting nicely in briemstone.
azazel.
The azazel.
The scape goat, fallen angel,black winged hope of sinners
and others countless name he has.
a heavy writing quill
Grimoras quill
slowly gets dipped in the native sufur
and paints the images on the wall.
poppys.
i smile,seing them.
i like poppys.
i like painting
i take the reddest rose
it resembles one of them.
poppys.
