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XI. i think the word is 'disassociation', actuallythere is some kind of
and i think i might be dying
or worse, losing sight
of memory and feeling
my arms are aching
with the weight of existing
i am not myself, i am
VIII. it took a long time to get there, tooi was halfway to the edge of the universe
bent on destroying the idea of nothing,
when i remembered i forgot my soul
deep in the flower beds at home,
so i gasped; miniscule fragments
of stars got stuck
in the dips of my teeth and on my tongue
and the universe filled the gap of my soul.
and i think i might have discovered a god there,
sitting on the precipice into nothing
and laughing at the prospect of mortality.
we all join them in the end,
but even a god cannot exist
without existence to be had.
VII. it's like we were made for each otherstrange, how each gap between your ribs
is the perfect width for my index finger,
and how each breath you take expands
your breasts perfectly into my hands.
wonderful, how when we kiss,
it feels like the whole universe
has condensed into that one perfect moment
of just you, and me.
perfect, how each touch i give
returns me smiles and kisses,
and how soft your hips are under my palms.
VI. didnt you get with the times?!when we kiss, i feel at peace,
and when you plait my hair
and put tiny little flowers
among the twists, i feel whole.
people like to say im strange,
or that my life must be hard;
but i love you right around the world
and i dont think that's unnatural
I. i looked out the window and saw so many flowersspring tastes fresh on my lips,
rain alighting on the grass
with a refreshing caress, and
the sweet calls of the swallows are near.
sitting under the old oak, hiding
from the cool sun's gaze
that is too cold for sleeveless shirts
but too warm for your girlfriend's sweater.
you think you see life
blooming under your palms
as you rest them on the dirt
and when you breathe,
you feel like there are tiny flowers
growing from your throat.
II. trigger warningi see;
the white crescents at the tops of my nails
extend down my whole fingers
as i dig as hard as i can into the wall
things blurring and difficulty breathing
and im clutching as hard as i can
but i dont feel anything
people staring and judging at laughing
at the poor pathetic thing that cannot
hold their composure because of one little thing?!
i dont see
because my vision has left me along with my breath
abandoning me in a wash of cold sweat
and a feeling like death-
the only letter I've ever wanted to burni.
if you want to give someone the silent treatment,
the first step is shutting up.
things made much more sense
when I was younger.
I thought there was one path,
each choice a stepping stone upon it.
in reality there are a million roads
intertwined like rope.
I got lost
I chose you.
promises are easily broken.
I knew that,
but it still hurt
spending friday night
shivering in the rain,
choking on cannabis perfume
in a dirt parking lot
your face never graced.
and I hoped against hope
you might appear,
but I wasted my wishing
on ungrateful you.
you died before taking your first breath.
I took a chance
and I should've known better.
you can give somebody all you have
and nothing can stop them from
throwing it away.
you've made this bed,
now lie in it.
you slit this suture,
you're the goddamn reason
I gave up on the month of april,
and soon enough you'll fall on your own blade
like some drunken samurai.
if you want
Die AloneI take apart her heart
And lay the pieces down
In a circular form.
Let her bleed a work of art.
I forgot I’m crazy.
I’ll whisper my secrets
Only if she promises
To die here alone with me.
.What do you want to be when you grow up?
They ask it like a dare.
As if letting your unlikely dreams
slip from the safety of your mind
could bring their own
a little closer to reality.
car crash on an empty roadit happened before
we did. it was more a person
than you or I or that boy
in the park trying
to convince us to
stupid. it happened
before your smile
cracked the sky in half, before
our laughters slurred into
a dissonant song, before
your fingers traced the stories
lying on my face before I knew
just how many pieces of sunshine
were trapped in your hair before
the walls became the ceiling and
I wasn’t claustrophobic.
things I remember:
the red blur of your room like
God was experimenting with the
symbolism in modern art, the
tri-tone shimmering of your eyes
like the surface of the water, the way
you defined perfection as a scale of
women ending with a less than sensible
me, the way you always moved like
you were dancing and no one was there to
RelativityLooking in the mirror
through the mirror
seeing a stranger,
My chest swells and my heart lurches
This girl isn't me, not at all
She looks like someone
but not me.
A movie star, a homeless person.
Even when I look at photos
no memory comes up
no allowing for the thought that I have a body
Or that the cold of my fingertips,
the throb of anxiety inside my ribs
I see my arm, an armband
A scar, a vein, a ring that has no meaning
But it did, to this girl in the mirror
Even if memory fails
Existence is relative
What Writers AreWriters are people from
both ends of the spectrum.
Those that know isolation
and the thoughts that follow.
Those that know enlightenment.
And those with nowhere else to go,
but deeper down the rabbit hole.
Writers are smiths of the word,
using imagination, experience,
and emotions to temper the
glass and steel we are given.
We fill the page with pieces
And writers are Gods.
Broken or whole or
barely scraping through.
We make you see our world.
We make you feel and care.
All with a bunch of lines,
which we have given life.
Hope in my Lawyer's Paperclip JarMy lawyer's desk on a normal Wednesday afternoon
is flooded with sheafs of white legal pads and errant staples.
Today is Wednesday, but the clouds outside
his twelfth-story window are shaped like loss
and the lines around his eyes seem crater-like in the shadows
and nothing about the last three weeks of my life
has been normal, so I don't know why it surprises me
to find his desk cleared of debris.
I wait for him in a silence that ebbs and flows with my heartbeats,
the zipper on my knee highs tapping against my leg like rain.
When he returns, hands filled with coffee
and the paperwork for a restraining order
against the man he set me up with almost a month ago,
I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.
"There's only one paperclip left in the magnetic jar.
It's bent like a swan."
I can tell, from the awkward shuffling of his loafers,
that he's wondering if he should have brought the Kleenex, after all.
He knows women often cry at things such as these,
reminders of the men they've love
1969, and time goes oni imagine you
thief of space affairs, time would go on;
wonder if you'd manifest
to govern gravity’s empire
physically, just as aurally,
so to walk with a
winds at war
captivated by you; sunshine
gathered in the organized
chaos of your hair: eyes would
dance fires domesticated by
your fingertips, boasting wander-
world laws of light (reigned in
earthen measure). i’d
boast mountains by your name.
the exhaust for gods
of transience (north-
hazed) transmuted back
(for easy drawls from the east)—
i’d sip wine
from the wishbone of your
body of sea. plead
the noise of bedroom eyes
& sleepy smells to soften your
siren’s unquiet tease.
i imagine you,
thief of space affairs;
imagine you in 1969
where our time would go on.
gunfire echoes.it permeates the very land we stand on.
the rat-at-tat-tat of machine guns
the slick click and tick
of the lock in time with the clock
tick tock bang.
how to justify war?
why take lives for lives for lives for lives for lives
'such a waste' to see
men lying gutted in the fields drowning in blood and bile
missing eyes arms ears legs tongues
bodies used for camouflage
rancid corpses become a safe new skin
gas froths the mouth rolls the eyes corrupts the lungs
blue blooded generals cheer a
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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