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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!".
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
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
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,
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
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
Wrong ['I really need you now.']Please come back...
I didn't mean it.
I didn't know I'd done it.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I never wanted to push you away.
I don't want you to hate me.
But I knew...
I knew you had always thought I was strong.
That nothing could ever truly harm me.
Despite our intelligence, we weren't as mature as we thought.
We were still fooled by that cursed "Teenage Invincibility" mentality,
And Lord, we were mistaken.
So when I suffered, I turned away.
I didn't want you to see me;
Didn't want you to know of my pain.
I know better now,
I learned I was... "wrong".
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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