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This, I knowI know that breakfast isn't necessary
and I am not an echo of my sister nor am I confused,
I know that culture is stupid
in thinking that poetry has no life of its
own, that unicorns and dragonflies don't live in our hearts,
and that orange juice and chocolate
taste exactly the same.
I know that life has endless mysteries and insane parallels.
Rage is a lot like passion and passion is a lot like rage.
That and an orange and gray striped sock somehow matches
the blue and pink polka-dotted one.
I know that pianos and violins sound a lot like music
but are really a sign that not everything is black and white.
That and trumpets and clarinets are best friends.
I know that there is only one doctor
that I would let cure me.
And there's only one set of parents
I would let help me.
That and spiral notebooks are the devil's handiwork.
Above everything else,
I know that it's all
very, very, complicated.
CruxI’m only sure of two things:
I still carry pieces of your cross on my back and
lilies were your favorite flower
Those last three months-
A silent drive home from the mall
purse full of stolen makeup
Dinners with my family where no one
bothered to make the conversion
Endless hours spent looking at paint samples
and I was smart to not buy the brushes
The line at the liquor store blended
with the lines on the road
At the same time with you
Then it was summer and you talked me into a country drive. We stopped on the side of the road to watch a cow giving birth in the center of a pasture. But, the calf never rose to its wobbly legs or felt the heat of the Indian summer….it never tasted dandelions.
The mother stood by the calf’s body
long past nightfall
and I stood by yours
long after that
Was this what we meant when we said forever?
Associations, ExpectationsI think I'd rather be a caterpillar
than anything else:
too much is expected of butterflies.
Shameful Confession of a 'Writer'Trees know no words.
Instead, they dance
With the wind, like ballerinas spin with pianos and violins in every chord.
Speaking sweetly with a flick of a foot, a sway of a branch,
And a quick little grin, while I trip on words.
I wish I can speak in tongues of daffodils during early spring.
The way each petal holds hope within its bloom, I wish to hold hope the same way;
Blooming its beauty with words, instead of blooming with May.
Sometimes, I'd get so sick of wishing to be a flower,
I'd start wishing I was rain.
I want to cry with the world and wash every window stained with hate.
But I only spill black inked words, and this is why I lose faith.
I know of words but my tongue is always singed
From when my mouth refuses to speak, so I just wish.
Shamefully, I wish to be as strong
As the silence of sea breezes,
The whispers of fallen leaves.
I wish to be as loud as time,
To speak as beautiful as the sun-dipped ocean,
And the shooting stars at night.
Sometimes, I wish, more than anything i
I'm FineI tried chasing the sun once, and I ended up with a burn on the right side of my face in the shape of a hand print.
Which taught me something I never thought I'd ever need to know: Even bright things, it turns out, can be clumsy with their light.
And my best friend sat with me one night under the moon, showing me constellations and naming planets with the help of a telescope.
He said, "They almost look surreal."
and I answered they might as well be.
It's his way of being nice when he doesn't pick up on my sour tones,
but it's his way of being stern when he counters back.
And I know I deserve worse.
I walked on water once, because the shoreline was close and the sea shallow,
and I felt like a god without the might.
Which is where the optimism comes from, I think, where I'm nothing great, but things help me to pretend I can be.
I texted my best friend then and told him I felt fine,
and a moment later I got a phone call and he replied; "That almost sounded real."
Summers Lost god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember.
to sewer lines:
like a wish
on a dead star.
the feeling of gritted teeth
and fingers crossed
until they break.
like a scalpel
and a brick wall
against my throat.
and i was
when i said,
swallowing cinder blocks;
stuffing steel under skin.
on my cheek,
like book pages:
"where have you been?"
I Swallowed the SunI feel like I have swallowed the sun
(will it eat the darkness in me?)
I want to dance in the rain
(will you come dance with me?)
So sing to the stars
they shine tonight for you
it outshines the sun in me
the sun is in me
the sun is all around me
(only I can see the darkness now)
You say I'm so beautiful
(but do you really see?)
so sing to the night
chase away the darknes
find a way
my sun will shine your way
cicatrix.she bites her lip
to keep in
the words she will not say.
strength demands distance.
they don't tell you this
when you're young,
but sometimes love isn't enough.
sometimes things just don't work-
no matter how hard you try.
sometimes you lose-
you fall on the pavement
and no one catches you.
she had nothing left to give,
so she gave herself a break.
sometimes love can't save you.
sometimes, you have to save yourself.
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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