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HesitationIn the midst of battle,
the young man hesitates.
He tries to remember his training,
but its all a moment too late.
A swing and a miss,
the cold steel slices clear.
The young man feels death's touch;
Hesitation costs him dear.
The light dims, eyes flutter shut.
His heart slowing, doesn't realize whats what.
A mistake costs dearly, in this game called life.
Tasting death's knife.
Isolated Isolation Inside the Insanity of InsomniaIsolation
Writhing, squirming, living hell
screeching, squealing, can not tell
where the road begins nor ends
just blindly follow the constant bends.
Rushing forth into unknown,
push and shove into the zone
of your comfort, your well-known place,
somewhere that you can show your face.
from yourself, your life,
from that damned and bloodied knife
Take it deep and take it all
into your cavity and fall
onto the floor of the castle you built
with nothing more than your shame-coated guilt.
Hubris of man, sins of the past
come to relive at the bottom of the glass
that you so willingly raise to your lips
just to taste it, taste it against
the cold, decaying bits that make up your flesh
and leave it with nothing but the best
Isolated from all that you know, knew, had
because you took without considering who was mad
It wasn't I, for I am not
the newly formed pile of rot
that you see every time you steal a glance
At your personal, little hell
that you so happily, wrongfully, built so t
HonestlyHonestly, I'm half asleep
I'm slipping in the brink
of despair and torment
just to try to catch a wink
My sleepless nights,
and endless days
are tearing me apart
just to see your gaze
I know to move on
and I know just how
but alas I cannot subside
my desire, just now
Manifesto of a PyroIf we set fire to the world, no one will suffer more
if we set it all ablaze, the corrupt will purge for sure
If you burn down this castle, back to ash
Our names will forever last
As the man who started anew
with just a match, a dream, and you
Loyal like a StrayHe’s loyal like a stray,
Right down to the tee,
He’ll follow you to hell and back
And shred you with his teeth.
He’s loyal like a stray,
He’ll stand strong by your side.
Just take heed, he’s a stray,
His loyalty is just a guise.
I have StrayedFar along, had I come
In my journey towards the old.
Progress had I believed I made,
Though my kindred were cold.
I’d tried to go on,
Tried to stand tall;
But alas my knees
Gave in to the fall
I don’t ask for strength,
Don’t beg for forgiveness.
No, I am Asatru, Strong
And don’t falter to weakness
I have strayed, over time,
No longer give gifts to the Gods
Life has decayed, such a crime,
But I still face the odds.
I will right this wrong,
Fix my problems on my own.
The Gods will remember
How I grew in the cold.
My name remembered,
Etched into time;
And take back what’s mine.
I may have strayed,
But no longer am I weak
This is my oath,
My vows I do speak.
So I'll just keep WaitingOne day I’ll get mine
One day that thing will never come
So I’ll keep waiting for that day
That day that it will rain
The sun stopped shining,
So long ago did the clouds form.
Blotted out the sun,
And the love was so warm.
One day, it will come,
The sweet rain will wash my face
And I’ll finally smile, free,
And feel that love’s embrace.
But it won’t come,
It never will reach me.
That day won’t come.
So I’ll just keep waiting.
Precious DoveYou ask me why I’m rather sad
but its because you just can’t see pass
The fact that the only reason we can’t be
Is because of the distance between you and me.
I gave you my heart, ripped out the blackness of my soul,
To make room for your love, worth far more than gold.
And yet no matter what I do, tried, or thought
I was always nothing more than a fat piece of rot
I will never be the man, that you so much adore
Because you killed off that prick when you left me some more.
I ripped out my flesh, torn asunder my heart
Made plans for the future, for love, just for it to all fall apart
You don’t talk anymore, don’t acknowledge I’m here.
Why won’t you love me? Say hello? What do you fear!
What could I do differently, I would destroy the heavens above
If it meant I could have you, just you, precious dove.
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.
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.
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
The Loving DarkIn the darkness,
A figure moves so slowly.
Questioning his purpose here,
And where he's meant to go.
Doesn't understand the light.
In turn he learns to fear it.
A woman smiles softly,
Her warm hold welcomes all.
But in the shadows, things do lurk,
And cripple the Maiden's call.
A weeping boy, doesn't understand
The differences of the world.
Just knows he's not to love a man,
But must, in turn, be hurled.
Into a world, that no one knows
But everyone knows their fear.
And has no reason to disembark this
Machine that controls, contorts, and lies
A weeping man stumbles out.
A maiden's call long dead.
Perhaps it was just a dream,
Perhaps just in his head.
The darkness knows him, it loves him too,
Doesn't judge or condemn.
Just lets him carry on, a weeping man, as him.
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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