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Onslaughtit rushes over me
a gust of tumbling objects
protestations and pinheads
straining the rainbow stitches
that pin my soul together
a stabbing suggestion
complete with kiwi and tangerine
and words i dont quite understand
hurtle towards me
uncertainty bleaches the threads
binding me together
red coals and sweatpants
bits of cloth and ruby dust
are sprinkled across my mindscape
a crack appears
ignites bits of fluff
camo teddies and orange bubbles
a gaping hole
a devouring empty mouth
it occurs to me that i have lost
the black whirlwind that
speeds across the landscape
but from the pulsing red ruins
i once called a heart
a burning parchment flies out
cooled by the howling winds
and on the frayed surface
there are two words
See it in your eyes,
Feel it piercing my soul,
Bitter, on my tongue.
And yet you stand-
Frozen stiff with fury.
It's worse than when you
Rage and yell,
Lecture and enounciate.
It is only meaningless articulation.
You truly feel it.
The loathing, the anger.
And I can see it.
Your eyes, they say it.
Accusing and sad,
"I'm disappointed in you."
DarkBefore the light,
There was dark,
Where there is light,
Darkness always follows,
Even in the purest heart,
There are shadows of darkness,
It would be so easy,
So nice to just fall,
One day I find
That I've fallen.
And I have to say...
It's perfectly corrupted.
Shaking with fury
"I gave you
I disappointed you
I don't want
To meet your eyes
"I judged you wrong"
I stand straighter
I look up
And bite my lip
To be judged again
Pierce my heart
X-ray my soul
Your eyes darken
Cold and hating
The verdict approaches
I'm dying inside
"You are not the person
I thought you were."
My execution awaits
Best Served ColdOn the menu tonight,
You'll find my heart.
Would you like it served
With a poison dart?
Perhaps you'll enjoy it
On a silver platter
Eat it bit by bit.
Delicious? Don't flatter.
Would you like it
Hot or spicy,
Or bitter or sweet?
Grilled or roasted,
Fit to eat?
Go ahead, just ask, be bold...
But if you ask me,
It's best served cold.
Overly ImaginativeWhat's my street like, do you ask?
Well, I could bottle it up in a flask...
Just a pinch of cold and touch of silence
Plus a ricketty row of paddle pop sticks
(My mum calls them fences though.)
The road is a twisted black ribbon
Speckled with white lines.
The night sky; a black curtain
With holes, where the light shines though.
And there's an empty little playground
Where the swing sometimes moves
By itself, creaking like an unoiled gate.
I could probably squeeze it all together,
Shove it in a bottle and tie it with a ribbon.
It's just an ordinary street,
With an overly imaginative occupant.
Computerised HumanityTippity tap, tippity tap,
Don't stop, it's a trap.
Clickity clack, clickity clack,
Too much work, stay on track.
Metalwork, plastic parts,
What are these things you call hearts?
Bottomless pit, endless hole,
Go ahead, sell your soul.
Press your buttons, click your mouse,
Day and night, inside your house.
Fall into the darkest hell,
Molten metal forms a shell.
Turning cogs, moving gears,
This is what I truly fear.
Humanity's fate before our eyes.
Adorn the frigid pathway
Grace the frostbitten door
Flutter in the frozen air
Like pristine butterflies
So flawless, so cold.
Frost the chilled windows
Caress the freezing trees
Lace the artic breezes
Like fine ribbons of ice
So exquisite, so cold.
Is draped in subzero chains
Wrapped in numbing tendrils
Encased in a frosty cage
Like an alien, locked in a foreign world.
And so, so cold.
MusingsMusings...What are musings?
They trace along your mind
Fluttering on the borderline
Of subconscious and conscious.
They invade your mind
At the most inopportune moments.
On the edge of sleep
Amidst impossible imaginings.
They demand attention
Once in a while.
They demand to be put on paper.
They order the tasks execution.
They won't leave you alone.
Not until you do.
And sometimes, musings seem
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
Skin.I love the way life leaves its mark on our bodies.
Every laugh and smile etched in the crinkles around your eyes and mouth;
Those tan-lines the time you forgot about sunscreen
Because you were so hell-bent on reaching that mountain peak
Or when you just became lost in the gentle lap of waves at the shore;
The scars you got skateboarding in the park at summer dusk
Or when life became pain and it was your only release.
Our bodies are a record of our memories and experiences
They are our travel journals and emotional diaries
Our delicate armour to the elements.
And no matter its colour, its stature, if it's not quite intact
If you sometimes think it takes up too much space, or if it has pointy corners
Your body is the vessel for your soul, and every wonderful facet of who you are
Sparkles from the surface of your skin.
Skin that may grow to be wrinkled, tanned, scarred, well lived-in
Although not always embraced by you the way that others embrace it.
Take the time to explore the s
The human condition of wanting to be everythingI feel as though I am exhausting
The excess skin around
in loose shadows
Across my cheekbones like
And whilst I find myself
To draw open the blinds
Because the light
is too bright
And I really can’t handle
The pane of the sky
With its obnoxious
glaring at me
With such a joyful expression
I know that lately
I am burning myself out
That I consume one too many
Cans of soda and energy drinks
At 2.45 AM
When the rest of the world
Is static in a hushed
Whilst I frantically try
To achieve something
Is too much
Or rather too
An existence for me
So I will continue
In order to
Try and destroy myself
Enough so that
I can be w h o l e
The scarsLife hurts us
It causes us to bleed
Time can heal the wounds
And stop the pain
But the scars remain
For the rest of our lives....
things i don't rememberi.
what you sounded like
as my ears were forming
what dreams or secrets
you confided in me
what pressures sunk
your proud shoulders
or the first time
i caused you
where i was when i decided
that your footsteps
should be followed
that your ideals
should be made my own
on my body
as i learned the world's ways
do not align
with our hopes
when i first
how my feet dangled
every time i wasn't strong enough and
how you made the world
how you were
figuring it all out
thought that life
To the BeautifulYou say we're beautiful,
Us who have been bullied...
But where were you while it was happening?
-I was watching-
You who say "This has to stop!",
There needs to be an end to this...
What are you doing to stop it?
-I did nothing-
It's too late now...
-I failed you-
of me and youthe day you stopped touching me was the day i
stopped speaking to myself. and the silence nearly killed me
LuckyYou talk like you always have a grain of salt,
to throw over your shoulder.
Every word is that hard cheese,
and they swing those whimsical wishbones much like carousels.
You're wasted on your self-image,
staggering down with rigorousness you don't own.
They're taking that steed and throwing horseshoes,
as if one of them might ring 'round your neck;
and save you from yourself.
You'll need a necropolis filled with pennies to barter,
and we won't lend a cent to save your sorry soul.
Your demons count clovers to kiss you,
gluing that fourth leaf to camouflage the truth.
They'd promise you an elephant to watch you die,
sucking sevens to keep you from entering Heaven.
And you can sing your superstitions into space,
but it's dead and empty.
Somewhat like the hollow shell you lounge in,
as the charms make you see spirits.
You say somewhere there's a rabbit dying to give its foot in your favor...
...but don't bet on it unless you can see that whites of its eyes.
Delicate white candy floss clouds,
Crisp green forests no-one's ever seen,
A blazing sun rising over a frostbitten world.
Wishing for things you know you'll never have,
Seeing things that will never exist,
Feeling things that no-one else will ever feel.
Twisted black hands wrapping around your neck,
Skeletons stalking you through a misty forest,
Ghouls ripping out your soul by twilight.
People long gone still lingering in your dreams,
Photographed memories coming to life
An old teddy bear that sings you to sleep.
But above all,
The essence of my very soul.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More