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About Deviant Artist Lily WestFemale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
How to Hallucinate When You Don't Have Drugs
-Go to sleep. Slumber long enough that you enter R.E.M sleep. Dream.
-Relax while almost falling asleep. Picture your soul floating above your body. Have an out of body experience.
-Stress yourself out and fall asleep in the supine position. Awaken paralyzed, unable to move. See the demons surrounding your bed.
-Develop a nervous disposition. Stare in the same direction for a long time. Sense figures in the corner of your eye.
-Stay awake for seven days. See the wind. Enter the waking dream.
-Begin to die. Join the astral plane. Meet your dead relatives.
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Trees + snow by lilyofthewest Trees + snow :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 2 0 museSketch by lilyofthewest museSketch :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 1 0 Logic by lilyofthewest Logic :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 1 0 Everything Must Everything closer by lilyofthewest Everything Must Everything closer :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 2 0 Everything Must Everything by lilyofthewest Everything Must Everything :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 2 0 InversePyramids by lilyofthewest InversePyramids :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 1 0 On the edge by lilyofthewest On the edge :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 4 2 aftermath by lilyofthewest aftermath :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 4 2
Literature
Sitting in my scrubs
Sitting in my scrubs listening to your shitty EP.
I’m supposed to be studying for an exam in three days, but instead I’m thinking of that summer when I would sit by your guitar and you would sing about truth and then braid my hair with cigarette-stained fingers. I quit after I took the MCAT. I heard you quit too, that you don’t even drink anymore.
You still can’t sing on key, it sounds like. But the lyrics about your new girlfriend are great. Poetic, even.
I know I left you like a surgeon, lovingly sewing the wound with professional calm and checking on the recovery. But sometimes I wish I’d left you like a soldier, gaping and ragged, because why should I help the next girl? Who will remember that I played fair?
But you are the soldier and you sing of blood, while I am the surgeon, staying back and asking if this hurts.
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Muse Landing by lilyofthewest Muse Landing :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 6 5 lithium by lilyofthewest lithium :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 0 0 Somber by lilyofthewest Somber :iconlilyofthewest:lilyofthewest 2 0
Literature
Stolen
3 am on a June night:
You’ve pushed me into a corner and
you’re mumbling something amorous
I’m sure.
It’s too dark to see, but
my eyes have rolled
all the way to the ceiling,
if not the back of my head.
I quell and eject.
Sugar-sweet-sounding-noes,
like the rum on our breath,
You left -
a calling card,
Bright Wall St. days
glinting in my
windowless apartment,
with no AC.
Messages:
Promises of return,
Profanities exchanged,
Silence.
In a month, I put them on,
Smile, and walk the streets.
Like a huntress,
wearing pelts from her kill.
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Literature
the small monster
A small monster sits at the foot of my bed. His eyes are watery like the eyes of my old black dog. But the sclera is yellow and inflamed and leaking pus. The monster himself has orange skin. It dry rots with holes. His splayed feet have the claws of a lizard. Sometimes he drools a little, and his pointy teeth are never without shiny spit.
It is not so hard to ignore him. I can look away from him. I am looking away right now as I write. His presence is unobtrusive. My monster is completely silent. Very well trained. But sometimes his choleric eye catches mine and I hold his gaze. Narrow slitted pupils pulsate gently – or is it only my imagination? I also seem to hear his heartbeat – though I know it can't be real, since his definition is one of silence. The heartbeat too is just in my cerebrum. But the monster enjoys playing these little headgames. He breathes through his nose just to tease me. And He makes his skin slough off in tiny pieces, instead of a convenient heap. The
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Literature
Bartholomew
One poem sweet Bartholomew, before I go
To fade into the west like the never tiring Sun
Like and yet unlike the Sun
For though I go to the west, I do not intend to return
And I hope never to shine on your doorstep again
For I have heard the calling of the sycamores
And there are better things in the world than your
Mud caked boots and stringy hair.
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deviantID

lilyofthewest
Lily West
Artist
United States
Focused on mental landscapes and multiverse theory.

Comments


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:iconmanuelvelizan:
manuelvelizan Featured By Owner May 17, 2015
;p thanks for the :+fav: on Cds Pack
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:iconmartaraff:
martaraff Featured By Owner Feb 12, 2015
Thank you*:heart:*
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:iconifurget:
Ifurget Featured By Owner Dec 18, 2006
YOU’VE BEEN POKED!

If you've been poked it shows that you are either a very good friend or a very good artist. If you have been poked then you must poke at least five people on DA that you view as a great friend or a great artist as well as the one who poked you. Happy Poking!

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