|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The Cabin [Red, Red Rust]All the dirt and the rust of life grows quickly enough four you to watch, if only you'd stand still.
Time holds no power here amongst collections of dusty memories.
The embryo lays hidden:
An unborn child in the placenta of the red, red rust.
The fear of his last moments remain imprinted in the floorboards;
The ghosts of his emotions are left to haunt you.
The crackling rage roars as the flames consume the fear and the hurt of the red, red rust.
If a cabin burns in an empty forest and no one notices,
Will you still be able to find the Ashes?
Letter from LoveI miss you when you're gone. Things aren't that bad here, really. I don't know what it is. I guess something's wrong with me. But I feel so panicked. Like, I'm slipping and I don't know what to do. My fingers are plunged deep into the ground above me, but all I have to grasp is muck and I can't hold on for long. I feel like any day, I'm going to crack. Because I always do. I'm anticipating it so much, I'm nearly ready to push myself into it. To hurt myself so I can get through the pain that I know will somehow find me. Why can't I feel good when you're not around? You think you're messed up? At least you can function. At least you can pretend everything is alright. I'm crumbling and no one's around to see it.
Come back soon,
Words of Heartache"Actions speak louder than words."
While your words are harsh,
Your actions are brutal.
"I like you."
Doesn't mean the same thing as
"I love you."
Your half-hearted attempts are practically worthless.
Can't compare to
"I wish you were here."
But for reasons I can't find or explain,
I miss you...
Not that you were ever around for me to miss.
InsomniaThis fortress was built to keep the world out and lock our happiness in.
But as I lay here, I wonder if we failed.
I curl into myself,
Wrapped in lace and satin.
Waves of black velvet cascade down my back.
I should be happy, I know.
Yet, I can't help but to wonder, as you sleep soundly, if we were wrong.
Laughter and shrieking reside only a chamber away.
Worry and reality pace just outside the door.
Loneliness lurks at the back window.
But we remain in the center, hollow and healing as we desperately try to fool ourselves that we'll be alright.
Here we lay, three broken hearts in a castle;
Stumbling through darkness, nearly crashing every which way.
We put on a brave face, laughing at our mistakes.
But at night, no one can deny such an empty silence.
A Quick [Unintentional] RhymeI want a Christian Slater guy;
One with dark, mischievous eyes
And a smile that's wickedly sly.
Yep, I want a Christian Slater guy.
Silent GirlI want to cry to you and confess all my secrets.
But for some reason, my tongue cannot manage the words I need to speak.
Just as frequently, my lungs cannot find the air to breathe.
My mind is failing, crumbling and weak.
My eyes grow dim as they lose the ability to see beauty.
Of course, the mirror only reflects the ugly:
So, I expertly fill the void with well-executed banter and rehearsed laughs.
Because I feel that silence isn't what truly defines me.
Not with an incarcerated heart at "not-quite seventeen!".
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Myself as Alice [Poem about a Dream]I dreamt I was Alice, white and pure,
And I was trapped in a Wonderland of ideas and thoughts so obscure.
I had a lover whom I'd never met but was soon stolen due to my naiveity,
As I mourned this loss, the earth slowly began to feed off my insecurities.
It's populace was plagued for centuries with tricks and treachery.
They all tried vainly to reshape me, mold me into their Evil Queen.
Amongst the chaos and cruelty, I lost sight of what was real.
Worst of all, I realized, I'd grown too numb to feel.
I managed to escape with nothing but a gown of shame left to wear,
And scars containing stories of hatred and spite I am forever damned to bear.
Now, I'll aimlessly wander these empty, majestic fields all alone;
Calling out desperately as I search for a lover I've never known.
For, with myself as Alice, I've never seen a future so sad.
But as a nightmare, it wasn't half bad.
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
Keep in Touch!
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