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Watercolored eyesThe contours of her hips, such skin of porcelain and glass.
The reflected eyes of a wary worried child, of a scared lizard gaping, attempting to take in the world seven times larger than he.
Freckles dance on raised cheekbones and muscles pull the microscopic threads to twitch the dark eyebrow into an organized mass of hair.
Concentration, the reflection on watery wet spheres of the earth attempting to breath through polluted air and corrupt schemes.
Muttered schemes, haunting the trees and make even its oxygen seem like poison with whispers of lies and deceit.
Letting down that child of yours making them cry on that one insignificant birthday.
The universe swirling in a mass rage of what the actual fuck as that damn energizer bunny stops banging on that fucking drum.
The overworked space with not enough work put into it gives out, a mass collision of senselessness and worthlessness.
Underappreciation from even that tiny lizard.
The screaming birds begging for us to listen
UnfortunatelyBut, unfortunately, my mind is poisoned by sin and corrupt from insanity.
My soul is spread too thin and thrives with a murderous lust of death.
And my heart grows gradually numb from a temptation's toxins and the serpents venom.
There will not be much left for you to care for, dear.
I keep telling you, I'm a disease.. an addiction.
Both of which result in destruction.
MachinesMoments of bliss are worth fighting and wanting for.
Skin intertwined a delicious mess of fabric leave hopeless lovers searching for something they'll never find, only to be whisked away into subconscious delusions of a self discovered truth in the matter or simple opinions desired to be somehow shared with the separate souls.
Words attempting to convey the drowning bickering thoughts someone once called sanity as time comes down to simple grains of sand.
Take your time child, we have forever to express and longer to dream when time no longer exists in the woven machinery somewhere in boggled minds of the most hypocritical factories that create this pitiful human existence.
What bliss; bliss.
WithdrawlThe priest's teary eyes and choked up throats catch the swarm of lies.
Such a pity, the sinner must repent from his nest of stupidity.
A fucked earth watches ash as rain when God watches in utmost disdain.
PredeterminationTell me child, what white words do you scream?
Blinding blackness detracts glossed eyes. Numb expressions.
Nerve endings of microscopic measures fail to recognize metal.
Two clicks of the barrel locks a target in place. Count.
Frozen tears fall upon pale noses. A moment in time.
Crisp air lingers in dampened locks of braids.
Weave chilled wind throughout her delicate bones.
Glued soles upon etched stone leaves the traveler far from home.
Chalked arrows guide you, my love.
Beware the falling sands of time.
Soon colors filter as senses fade to grey.
ExcerptOh this fine air is such a crisp Autumn. Breathless swirls of oxygen and ice blend beautifully in a harmonized dance of something we call wind. Bliss; bliss.
The PartingAnd so the kiss upon his lips seals the deal for she'd rather end her life than live like this.
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 goodw
My memories of my dearest youYou chased me all the way through the harbour port and caught me by my auburn pigtails. You told me they burned like the sun kissing the horizon goodbye as we sat on the deck catching our breath. My eyes tracked down the silhouette of your chest where your sheer garment rippled to translucency. I liked how your spine slouched into comfort and how the your silhouette shone in ethereal hue. And when my chapped lips rubbed into yours, somehow it bloomed to our own perfect splatters of colours.
I hope you still remember how our fingers entwined beneath the old palm trees. How the wind caressed my hair and you ruffled it as we kissed.
And how our cackling laughter blended to perfect cacophony at the old porch swing. I'll always notice your smile that lights my world like the crescent moon shines the earth.
I still remember our playful memories when we mischiefs ran around the thrift shop and you provoked me with our silly pictures in silly clothes.
Or our charming memories where you promise
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
ExceptionWere all composed of the same simple organic matter, but you my love.
Are created with the beautiful crystal from the most uncommon ore,
mixed with wings of fish gliding about an unreachable sea,
and sprinkled with stardust falling from a twinkling twilight as the sun and moon greet each other good riddance.
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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