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Accept ExceptI have odd shaped lips
My jaw’s not defined
I’m covered in freckles
And my smile’s unaligned
My nose is too big
And my cheeks make my face
And a real ugly case
My eyes are too close
And my teeth are too yellow
But still I have found
An appreciative fellow
Who kisses my lips
And makes my unaligned smile
Turn up more at the corners
And last for a while
The Way the Ocean Loves the ShoreI keep you around for the now and then
For the times I genuinely bask in your perfection
I think I might love you
The way the ocean loves the shore
When I’m at low tide
All I want is to see a cigarette between your fingers
When I’m at high tide
All I want is to see my fingers between each of yours
There are days when I'll crash against you
Though I swear it’s the wind that pushes me
There are days when I merely brush against you
And you eagerly allow me to take your shells and lovely grains of sand back with me to collect beneath my wake
I keep you around for the metaphors you never understand
The smoke in your lungs is the clouds in your mind
It must be hard for you to be simple
Superultramegaemo VentI have no gender
I have no face
I have no body
I have no place
I have no mind
No words inside
Everywhere to run
Everywhere to hide
But here I sit
No need for care
Press your face to it
Look past the glare
Break the glass
And you might see
It seemed transparent
The outside of me
A known shell
A living hell
Past the glass
Past the glass
Perhaps a mirror?
Can you see yourself?
But no matter
I am exposed
A storm arises
It snaps your wings
A pattern has been broken with my shell
The pattern has shattered
A material wasteland
A mainstream horror
Do not let this need confine your words
No one will read you here
Shatter the pencil against our walls and write with your blood
We have built my wasted walls back up around us
Protect myself from the harsh outside
Perhaps in here I will not age
I will always be wrong
I do not like change
But the need to shed my skin will never cease
So I will hide
So I will bury myself
No I will expose myself in this material escap
Flee not from thought I run. Exposed to the images that are a blur around me. Funny, such an average thing. Something so average, running. A skill passed down through generations and generations. In my head I see thousands before myself running through jungles and fields and villages and towns and cities. Cities of mud, of wood, of gold, of brick. Something so average. Something so simple. Right foot, left foot. Of course I thought of none of this at the time; only after. Sitting on my bed back home.
As I run I have nothing on my mind; an aspect which had occurred to me but had never seemed possible for someone like me, with so many thoughts buzzing around my head at once. I couldn't clear my mind for two seconds. Of course two seconds is a lot longer in one's head.
I like to think I have an ultimate understanding of how the universe shall never
The day before the last
I stand at my front door with a bag full of what you would call groceries, digging lazily in my pocket for the key to my apartment. I feel with the pads of my fingers for the familiar edge. I keep all my keys loose in my pocket; I only have four of them so I don't see the point in a key ring. I never loose things anyway. I slide the key into the key slot or whatever it's called and twist the door open. I drop my bag by the door and sit on the floor, staring out the window on the opposite wall, like I always do.
My apartment hardly deserves its title; it's a square with nothing but a bed, an egg crate full of clothes, and a shelf with a microwave and a mini fridge below it. I live a simple life. The apartment came as just a shabby square with flowered wallpaper peeling off the walls, desperate to escape the hell hole, no doubt. I tore it down of course, gave
Blank Prison All is red. Red and red and red then black for just as long. This repeats for what he soon assumes to be days. Beginning as a soft humming to random pounding noises, his hearing began to resurface. Now and then he would hear familiar voices dancing just beyond comprehension. There is still no vision. Just red then black, red then black. But he does begin to feel warmth. Hot red, cool black. This confirms his earlier suspicion of night and day.
Memories float to the surface gently and silently like drift wood after being pushed below. They bob up and down, difficult to fully grasp once they have been touched, for they are just as slippery.
Eventually he has lost any sense of time. It could've been a week or four years. There were no walls of chalk lines (to keep track of suc
The End of a BeginningLights flicker
Big lights all around; Above my head
Like walls of electronic beasts, eating at my sore eyes
Some hang precariously by cables
Jagged blue runs along a few now and then
All is dark besides the spots illuminated in electronic hues
All is silent but white static
And the occasional rumble as another building crumbles at its manmade seams
Thus the ground is littered with debris
It looks as though there is no sky. Only endless black
I believe the stars are cowering behind a film of storm clouds
Or the sun has been taking by ash
I feel no breeze; the air is still
And it is not warm or cold
But I breathe in and taste the dust I had caught floating off the rubble around me
It smells of ash. Of death. The death of a beginning.
The end of a beginning.
Valley Forge . Forging a pathTraveling
We walk across ice and rock
The ground has been frozen,
Taken by this icy malignant winter
The ground had lost a will to go on
Quite unlike myself and the 12,000 men who tread beside me
I look down
At that winding, endless path of ice
And I see blood trickling frantically through crevasses in it
I feel the pain but it doesn't hurt
We march slowly
The men around me shiver in scraps of clothes well-worn from countless battles
Wrapped around their shoulders like blankets
For food we search the farms we pass
And the forests in which our journey intertwines us
In front of me and others, there is a man of power
Of status yes, yet pride and strength
I know he fights for the same cause as we
Fighting. Disease festers.
We no longer travel but through nightmares.
We fight an enemy we expected but not the foe we know
Each one of us fight a battle
Most of us losing
We had anticipated dying at the hands that hold our freedom
But out real battle has not yet begun.
We suffer, yet know still
The Creature WIP "The dreaded 'Shadow' has taken yet another victim. This time Holly Cyntain, 61 of Jackson Michigan. To avoid an attack, please stay away from shadows and travel in groups at night. The majority of the attacks have taken place from 10pm to 4am. Coroners still have not yet identified the nature of the beast that has been making the killings " Children gasp with their kin at what the man in the box says. They sit cross-legged on the carpet with their parents watching sympathetically behind them. "The police teams are searching the woods surrounding the attack sites but have no leads thus far." The creature, though his hearing unimaginable, understands none of this. He sees only artificial light pouring out of the square he has seen them through. He knew nothing of people but food and shrieks. The creature has few feelings. Empty now. Empty, empty. The creature wande
My mind deals with
Overcomes my judgement
Today it's no different
I can't take it anymore
Observing my image but
Nothing is revealed
Before My Mouth Told You I Was Sickbefore my mouth told you i was sick, there were
the fingers that wrapped around cups and cups of tea.
i sipped oceans.
i sipped the seven seas
and my ribs were the rainstick that
sent shivers pattering like some
down your swaying, praying spine.
there were the hurricanes.
that is what you came to call them,
my eyes burst into lightning,
my chest quaked with thunder,
when my ribs heaved with the monsoon
that was my breath
until i collapsed, shaking, into your
beach house arms.
there were the missing beats.
sometimes my heart slowed, stopped,
staggered home drunk to gasp morse-code warnings
between my aching ribs.
sometimes the stillness was so perfect
(and alone so tempting)
that i wished for the beat
to wander far and
to be forever lost.
there were the ribs, and the collarbones.
i was a mountain range with
blood in my rivers,
you saw the carrot sticks
(oh god how could you)
and you let me feed myself with
there was the blood i was suppose
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
To the person who holds my best friend's heart...I know that is is kind of weird
But I felt that I should write this down.
I need to tell you what I feel
And tell you what he means to me.
He's my best friend and he's a good man.
Please, give him the love and respect he deserves.
He may seem goofy but he's very sweet.
I know this because he was always there for me when I was sad.
Now, I know that you're not bad
Cause he would never choose someone who's mean.
But I still want to tell you just in case you forget in the future;
Please don't break his heart.
He's been through so much
And he doesn't deserve something like that.
He is the kind of person who smiles even when he's hurt by others
And would take any pain for the people he loves.
I know, I've witnessed it.
I know he may seem kind of childish sometimes
But don't let it get to you.
It's just his way of expressing himself.
He's very caring and I'm sure he'll do anything to make you happy.
He doesn't look like it but he's very kind and thoughtful.
He'll put your needs before h
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
you're wearing isadora's scarvesoh, i hope you never love me, satyr-girl.
misanthropic mistress, i am coughing up
crows & bleeding blue beneath pocked
vessels; these worn teeth may be ink-
cavities, but i have never been your poet boy.
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
Can you look deeper?You see that girl you just bullied?
The one you harassed over her choice of art?
The art of a man beating a woman to death?
She saw her father kill her mother when she was five.
You know that man who likes to photograph himself in dresses?
The one you called a homo because of his choice of clothing?
Well, his parents wanted him to be a girl instead of a boy.
So they made him dress like that everyday to pretend he was a girl.
You know that woman who writes stories about child rape?
The one you bullied until she didn’t know how to cope with life anymore
Her uncle has been in jail for the past eleven years.
He raped her daily for seven years of her life.
What about that guy who favored abstract artwork?
Do you remember him he liked to use the colors red and black a lot.
He was nearly beaten to death when he was fourteen.
He only knows nightmares because he remembers seeing his blood on the wall.
What about me? Do you remember me? Even just a teensy little bit?
You bullied me because
Taste of Ash
Taste the ash
The ash on your tongue
The ash born from the flames that once burned within you
You were once this flame
Blinded by the fires
The heat consumed you
But they are gone now
They died with you
They died with your will
Your will to live
Your will to breathe
Your will to see the sunlight, or even moonlight
You say you are trapped within these shadows
But there are no shadows here
There would have to be light for there to be shadows
Shadows are dark, but so is ash
Taste the ash
The ash from inside you
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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