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Valentines Day ChallengeThere are no songs that I could sing
above a whisper's pitch,
no tone or sound to match
the humming bird flutter of your breathing.
The feather of your sleep, dances on your lashes;
the soft smile
warmer than down across my chest. I place
a single kiss, upon your sleeping breast. I watch
your lips part at my affectionate intrusion.
In silence like a dreaming bird, I listen.
SorrowI feel it. Water, salty to the tongue, fills up the cup
cut into the space in the hollow below my sternum.
It fills to the brim, flowing from nowhere, and overflowing
it spills into and over my veins. In waves that ebb and thrust
in the canals of my nerves, the water rises to my brain. It
sinks down into my legs, buckling my knees in the force
of its weight. The tide is rising, and I am made an ocean
in the form of a man. The water trickles down from the corners
of my eyes becoming a channel for the ships of my grief
to sail out into the world that does not recognize the man
I am. An entire ocean bubbles and rolls behind my face.
A slow steady wave becomes a beast that cracks the green
glass surface of my sea. In the wash that sweeps
my sandy skin, in the sheen that shows where water once
rose, the man is lost in the wake. I break.
GnatsMy mind is buzzing like a million gnats
swarming over the fruit of my thoughts.
Though the mouth of one gnat is small,
together they feast on the flesh like the fangs
of a salivating maw. Obscuring the luscious
globe of imaginings, the zipping and zigging
waves of annoyance that no amount of
swatting at nothing, or nervously rocking
eat at me.
PebblesLittle by little the flint-stone of my soul is worn away into whatever time will make of me. Am I destined to be another pebble in a shallow stream, or a blade like those of ancient dark eyed people? Am I destined to weep at the loss of my being, or will I be honed, sharpened, a thing with a purpose? One more stone is skipped across the pond, but in the depth of the pool I find myself sinking.
It's Pretty Humid OutThe sky is layered in consuming grey,
like a balanket on a day too warm for the covers.
The patchwork sky is quilted in the cotton fluff
of the grey that stagnates the air.
I languish on a couch meant for lovers;
alone, all I have is my bare shoulders to hold.
It is not the sweat of passion that dampens the folds
of the mute brown cushions, but the stale air of inactivity
condensing on my skin.
I lay in silent stagnation, no wind to stir in me
the breath to move me into action.
Without warning, the grey quilt tears.
Rain taps on the sidewalk like fingers tap
on a pane of glass.
I am up and running,
down the stairs.
A WispShe is menthol on my tongue, minty
with flashes of green that tickles my eyes
as I fight to keep from blinking.
Her kiss burns like the cherry of a cigarette
held firmly against my quivering lips; ashes
are all that she leaves in her wake.
She rises above me, a wisp,
wrapped around my finger tips.
I have no choice, but to breathe her in.
She fills my chest in the span of every breath,
like a tide made of smoke, rising and falling. I have
no choice, but to inhale and taste her on my tongue.
Simple Girl Complicated ProblemsI know I am not the daughter you wanted
But at least you got it right the second time
My little sister found her place in your hearts
But I feel I have never really found mine
Why would you care to listen to your first born?
When you have a fresh blank canvas to create
All of those things that you wish I could have been
Had I not developed such negative traits
But those negative traits make me who I am
And shouldn't you love me without condition?
See my stubbornness as being strong minded
And when I talk, don’t interrupt just listen
I know I am not the daughter you wanted
I scowl but I still need your loving embrace
Though you barely acknowledge my existence
Apart from to tell me what I've done wrong today
But why would you ever want to talk to me
When an argument is never far away?
It’s the tone of your voice that hurts me the most
Rather than the words that you choose to say
To think I was once a baby in your arms
With such innocent eyes I could do no wrong
In many ways I
Little BirdLittle bird,
where have you flown?
how much have you grown?
How is your broken wing?
The one that I cared for,
that I put in a sling.
do you think of me
as I do you?
Do you wonder where I've gone,
what I've gone through?
do visit me again;
you've been the only one
I've ever loved;
my only true friend.
My Personal DevilHis kiss was that of fiery coal,
A peppermint-feel upon cracked lips.
His hands had gripped my soul —
Oh, the feel of ecstasy!
His eyes obtained the celestial sky
And were like the chilly arctic breeze.
There was no chance that I could deny
Such lively things…
His alabaster skin was so gentle, so smooth,
Mocking a similarity of mine as I awake at sunrise.
His touch had a way to soothe
The scorches upon my body…
My personal devil’s love was euphoria;
He had wrapped me in his hellish ways.
My body had been eaten away by chorea.
Yet, I crave his blaze.
Ignite me in the love you share!
Burn me with your singeing lips.
Show me how much you care!
Then drown me in your flickering flames.
His heated hands were placed upon my face.
His snakes spiraling up my legs.
Our lips were near a kiss, which he did not place,
And, instead, withdrew himself.
His deadly presence, his own personal darkness,
Was brightened by the sun.
I slowly awoke in emptiness
And lost my personal d
No AirI never expected to love you.
I never expected to care.
I never thought you would be on my mind.
I never noticed if you were there.
I don't know when it started,
But I hope it never ends.
The way I feel with you tonight
Is more than I can comprehend.
And when you talk
about things that I don't know
I lose my mind a little.
But I love the way you glow
I can't help the butterflies
I can't concentrate when I'm with you
The truth is -- if I'm honest --
Sometimes I want to kiss you.
So maybe it's no secret,
And maybe you don't care,
But when I see you my heart beats fast
And suddenly there is no air.
ParasiteWhen the day turns into night,
it begins, the everyday fight.
They begin to talk in my head.
If anybody found out they would tell me I’m mad.
I don’t know if the one who thinks is me.
Can’t these voices just let me be?
Speaking and confusing my thoughts.
For me these things are only frauds.
What if the things that I think are not mine?
Should I just lay here and whine?
I think they corrupted my soul.
No, maybe even my body as a whole.
This is the side of me that I have never shown.
At times like these it is dangerous to be alone.
My head feels like it’s blown off with dynamite.
I don’t know, maybe my brain is occupied by a parasite.
Peace is a lieHello there, why don’t we take a walk?
While we take a walk, I would really like to talk.
Did you ever asked yourself what is wrong with this world?
Why people are so screwed up in the head and their thoughts are twirled?
It is no secret that the world is at war.
And falling down are the masks that they wore.
Something in their heads seems to be broken.
Humanity is a monster and it has been woken.
When you think about it everything is a lie.
The only question you will have is: why?
Everyone is hoping for the big release.
But don’t be stupid, there is no peace.
Wind GrownQuiet grown
With green and ground
The ash and sound
Until the green has 'nother play
A wat'ry stream
Down with a tide
Across the beam
The first to know the last of one
Breath of space
Carved by your arm
A heady place
Awaits no harm
Because no eyes will watch or plea
Wind is wrapt
Around you braced
By time that kept
You wings misplaced
One cannot fly where wearies went
Height and breadth
Come with the stars
While nourished wealth
From flanks and far
The form is kept but not the brain
Stones will crack
Under your weight
Streams run black
The light you take
Unknown on high there's but your will
The path you made
Will flood and break
No more remained
Your flanks are slaked
Come back when you are broke and burned
Now hole refilled
Where life was held
The ash was forged
Until the wind the self will stay
I'm AddictedBasked in your blue glow
Far into the small morning hours
I discover more than I could know
My goal is consumption
Of Knowledge, so I combat fatigue
And it takes control - my obsession
Read this, watch that
How can I ignore anything
There are facts upon facts upon facts
That I could memorize
And so I sit and stare
At the screen, mesmerized
Last to leaveThe park is dark tonight while I'm drinking,
the shadows of friends have long retreated.
Bright orange city lights tinge my thinking
Lying in the grass alone, defeated.
My bottle now empty, discarded glass,
no longer a den for spirits and mirth
sequesters the moon on the dying grass;
an icy blue light for unworthy earth.
The vodka I drank still teases my tongue
while cold night air penetrates my clothing.
Salty bitter fire between each lung
Keeps me warm from the cold of self loathing.
The park is spinning as I try to leave,
but I fall back down to my knees and heave.
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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