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Reality's EdgeI know that a lot of people tend to believe that mirrors are a certain kind of portal to another world; a world that was just like ours, yet somewhat... corrupted. Just a little bit out of place. It all looked the same; there wasn't a thing out of place. And yet, still, there would always be that feeling as if something weren't quite right, not quite the way it should be. Like the way one might feel when they knew they were supposed to remember something but couldn't remember exactly what. I always figured it might feel like that.
But that's not all of it. Some people also believe that that reflection in the mirror, that one that looks just like you, isn't you at all. It's some sort of monster. One that wants nothing more than to trade places with you so you will live the rest of your life in the corrupted world and so it can live your life, steal your real friends, real family, and you know what will happen? You'll become that reflection. You'll simply be mirroring the life of that th
A PoemA Poem
Always changing, never the same;
Always different, but always vibrant.
Not a day goes by
When she's not being completely,
This is a poem
About someone who will never
In their life
Be someone who they aren't.
(You Die.) I Die? (You Die.)I can't do it.
(Yes you can.)
(A necessary price for peace.)
What is this even solving?!
People will miss me!
(No they won't.)
But he will.
(... I know.)
Doesn't he count?
(Because you love him.)
Why does that make him not count?
(If someone could love you back, they don't matter anymore.)
(Because you're not worth it.)
(Because you don't matter.)
(Because you've never been worth anything to anyone.
You've never done anything that would prove you deserve anything other than pain and misery.)
(It hurts, doesn't it?)
Because everything you said...
It was all true....
I am worthless.
I don't matter—I never did. (Yes, that's right.)
What do I do now?
(You end it.)
(Well, dear, that's simple.)
So how do I do it?
(Pick up the knife, dear.)
(Put it against your wrist.)
(Now, drag it up all the way up to your elbow, right along that lovely blue vein you see poking out there.)
I Tried (No I Didn't)Did I do this to you?
I tried to help;
Help you get better,
But instead, did I just help you
Become a monster?
I thought I was helping you better yourself.
I thought I was helping you become...
I thought I was helping you get yourself under control.
I only made it worse.
I think, somewhere inside myself,
I knew what I was doing.
I knew I was only making it worse,
But did that stop me? No. Could this mean...
We're both monsters, me and you?
Internal StruggleStruggle. An eternal struggle. No, not with someone like a friend, or a family member, or even an enemy. This is... Probably the worst struggle of all, in my opinion. A struggle with myself. Having one part of me firmly believe in one thing and another part of me firmly believing another thing. How can one possibly be expected to simply make up their mind in such a situation? When you've a struggle with someone besides yourself, at least your whole mind is agreed upon one firm belief, rather than two parts of you, two things that are both.. You, having completely seperate ideas.
This could be simplified, I mean, the two things that make me struggle with, well, myself could be something as hideously simple as choosing a pair of socks or at least something as plain and easy. I wish it could be so simple, but no, simplicity is a luxury which I do not have. Complication. Now, that is a main premise in my life. I cannot just be so plain as dimwitted simpletons. Think of it this way. Everyth
Young LoveI was so young
when I first heard
the beats of my heart
pulse lightly upon my ribcage
My toothpick bones,
to the powerful palpitations
And I was still young
when I heard again
the throbs of my heart
pound forcefully upon my ribcage
My metal bar bones,
to the butterfly-wing beats
So you better hurry, boy
as my ribs are becoming
thick as steel
and you’ll soon need a metal cutter
to reach my heart
(And I don’t want to become damaged in the process of being loved).
how to love a girl who can't love herself.get lost under the sun, then
fight the break of dawn.
i am nothing in the dark,
so show me
walk with me,
to the secret place
where i met you
(those turquoise city dreams)
when the sun goes down,
when the moon shines,
(girl of the ocean, let's go
somewhere only we know.)
please, i beg you.
winter me gently, because the earth laughs in flowers, and
red red roses, they're so beautifully
from the back of my throat, i promisethe world is made of talking trees and cloudy water,
and the way you look at me
i'm no artist but i think i've painted your voice at the base of my neck
it's not something you can come back from
and tomorrow won't be a victory any more than it will be a loss
they don't make maps for a place like thisI'm stuck somewhere
between great rollings hills
and a sweet-calm sea,
but the air doesn't smell
of salt or dandelions.
Only this heavy
cloying breeze that sticks
in my throat and fills
my lungs with the sharp tang
of musk and pine
reminds me that I'm
not far from home. And
in the distance there
is a rolling clamor;
a whistle crying long and low.
But there are no signs,
Though I've wandered days
through this strange
traipsing across smooth plains
and sharp plateaus, I've
never crossed the
same path twice...
One thought rings true in
this foreign land:
dear, don't be alarmed
I only lose my bearings so thoroughly,
only become so
What Shall He Be?Oh what shall he be - the one to steal my heart?
Many a man is there in this vast world,
But what sort should I desire?
My sisters have oft said to see him in my thoughts.
To know him there and appease my dreams.
I am slow to act, for what reality could compare to a woman's dream?
But, alas, I do believe
That even I find myself dreaming of him now and again.
And so you ask, what sort of man is he?
Well listen close, for here I shall tell of what sort he would be:
He should be tall and graceful, elegant and fair;
With sweet golden locks of his curly hair.
And have blue eyes that sparkle in the light
Of the sun, bright, as does his smile shine.
His tender words and gentle touch
Would so sooth my heart and troubled mind.
His strong arms would hold me fast in the darkest nights
And chase away my fears 'til dawn.
His sweet lips would kiss me tenderly, lovingly just so.
He would have a heart of pure gold, and be loyal and good.
And looking into his eyes, he would see my soul
And I, giving my
to hell with goodwill (que sera sera)his tale-weaving tongue
tastes of crisp linen
drenched in bergamot
locked in by lips
of brown sugar that bubble
a blueberry melody
on his siren songs
drunken on an unearthly state
i drown my earl grey eyes
refusing to abandon the atrocity
that is his bedspread
his vesuvius temper
keep me on the verge of tears
on the ledge of limitations
i know all too well
i can never repel his touch
his gaze glazes over my beehive body
and i break open
raw and wild
sucking on the saccharine serendipity
of seeing this scene
in some long lost dream
his lambent limbs
though scathingly swollen
spread far and wide
such is my
i am peeled
past my quivering
he polishes and pencils
past my profanities
his life oeuvre is
to have me obliterated
come what may
the desolation of this delusion
will one day leave me
to inferno with goodwill
Sleeping VolcanoWhen you kiss me
thousand little needles
pierce my skin
delight and pain
both burning calmly
like sleeping volcano
slowly consumed by
heat and fire
and I bleed
poison and nectar
embraced by your need
and even if
we grow distant and old
fire burns out and lava turns to stone
my blood keeps
screaming for your lips
I won't forgetI will always remember
you quietly waiting in the corridors
and opening doors for me to pass through
you drifting in and out of office spaces
and as we walked with matching paces
your smile would quietly etch itself into my memories
of what we were when we were not together.
I will always remember the feelings I wanted to forget
as I walked the limits of darkness every night,
my loneliness like a silhouette
that knew no respite
from the resounding cries
of the kookaburras in the trees
weeping for the heart that wanted to be free
to be with the you
who could not be with me.
I will always remember the voice inside my head
uttering a love that could not be said
across the oceans and the miles
that stretched like a chasm before us
but it was never a distance we did not surmount--
each night a transgression of space and time,
a compression of our imaginations and our minds.
I will never forget these slivers of a past
that used to haunt us with the pain of our non-existence
in a reality we'd
What is Love?What is love?
Love is caring for someone more than you care about yourself.
Love is NOT trying to change someone to better suit you.
Love is caring for someone so much that you just want to be around that person no matter what.
Love is NOT guilting someone into loving you too.
Love is someone you couldn't stop thinking about if you tried.
Love is NOT pushing someone away the moment things gets rough.
Love is following your heart no matter what.
Love is NOT making excuses for your actions just to seem more desirable.
Love is caring for that one person's happiness endlessly, even if that person doesn't love you too.
Love is NOT forcing someone to want you the way you want them.
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.
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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