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Glass Bulletshow can you say you're shattered,
when you're the one that hit me,
when you're the one-
that shot me down-
and broke me apart:
a bullet without a spark
no catalyst to drive you forward,
you try to wound but end up broken in the process;
so i'm the one-
that cleans you up-
and tries to put you back together-
when all i want to do is throw you out
like shattered glass
a fallen hope,
a reality that doesn't exist,
you're lies within a barrel-
ready to fire at will-
but you're weak,
and a hopeless cause without a use
so i'll throw you to the ground,
and watch you break,
because even when you're the one who's destroyed;
i still get cut in the process
Bearing it AllAuthor John Green stated once that "Humans tend to measure time within the framework of important events…The event that we're counting…away from is the defining moment of these people's lives and it reshapes their relationship to the world so completely that it also reshapes their understanding of time." During my "before" I was a dancer; ballet, jazz, and tap. It was everything to me and my dream at the time was to someday dance on Broadway. During one of my classes, while doing battements, it suddenly felt as of my hip had popped out of its socket, causing me to fall to the ground. It didn't hurt at the time, but I still sat out for the rest of the class and went to the doctors the next day. The first trip to the doctors was quite uneventful. I was told that it was probably nothing more than a strained thigh and to just take it easy for two weeks, and if the pain is still there go back to the doctor. That was fine and I did as told, until one day in gym while playing DDR I somehow ma
All In Your HeadSoft spoken words at midnight, but she's not really there. Yet it continues, day after day, month after month. An endless cycle that you're bound to repeat no matter how many times you tell yourself she's gone.
Get it together.
Cherished memories that you can't seem to forget no matter how hard you try. And you try, so fucking hard. But at least when you pretend, the wounds don't hurt so bad. They don't burn and ache and make your vision go red.
Get it together.
So you focus on nothing, her, everything. It doesn't matter. You mutter to yourself, to her, to the shadows. And they respond, they shift, morph, drag you down until you're no more. They suffocate your lungs until you're filled with them. Filled with shadows and her.
Get it together.
Time passes faster, slower, sometimes it doesn't move at all. You're stuck until the next time because there is no in between. There's no stop, pause, no intake of breath. Nothing but a constant hum of silence and screaming. So
001Maybe maybe this time when I tell you everything is alright, it can be the truth. Maybe I won't have to hide anymore. I really don't want to. I want to be well for you. I want to be alright. You deserve so much more than I can give you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not perfect like you deserve. And that I'm so messed up inside, and outside. That I can't be okay. I want to be okay, really I do. I want to be okay for you. I want to be that perfect girl for you. The one you spend forever with. But it's dark where I am, and your light isn't enough to help me see. And I know you're strong, but you're not strong enough to catch me. And I'm falling. Falling so deep. I want to get out. Really, I do. Can't you see?
Or are you okay with the lies? Can you really not see past the surface? That I'm cracked and broken into a million little pieces. Do you not care? Do you really think I'm okay? Do you believe the words that come out of my mouth? Can you not see they're tainted black? That it's
It Was LoveIt was pain, and it was sorrow, and it was everything he didn't want.
It was her un-shed tears, and her flustered cheeks, and quivering lips.
It was hope, and a future, and something unbelievable.
It was a hug, a kiss, an 'iloveyou' that broke him.
It was her, and it was him, and a maybe ever after.
It was being lost, but being found, and never having to worry.
It was rainy days, and cloud watching, and her always in his arms.
It was forever, and for never, and a fairy tale rolled into one.
UntitledThere once was a princess of silver and gold who sparkled in the sunlight and glowed with the moon. But that princess was gone. So long gone and never to be seen again. It was strange when it happened, almost like she left with the moon. The last sliver of her ever seen before she disappeared, but unlike the moon, she didn't return. She didn't slowly come back, piece by piece till she was whole again. No, she stayed hidden away, like clouds covering the sky. The princess became a broken doll of herself, her smile that was once so bright, was now razorblades. Her edges sharp and her eyes dull. She was skin and bones and broken smiles. She danced the night away in torn dresses and broken crowns. Her princes left and her knights turned dark. Her world was a big mess of kaleidoscope colors. Lines blurred till she couldn't tell what was real from what was fake. But everything was fake now. From the smile on her lips to the promises that left them. She lived for the night, but die
Selling the NewsThey tell you to be perfect.
But really it's all lies.
One wrong move and it's all your fault.
Don't try to make it right.
It still breaks in the end.
Paranoia is the new sin,
The savage beast within.
They make it sound like a prayer,
Like it's really all okay.
But you know the truth.
What they're hiding underneath their skin.
They tell you not to worry,
Everything is fine.
But something is still there,
The greater good doesn't exist,
It's all fiction,
Suspicion is the new religion.
CagedSomewhere dark, and damp, and cold.
A rotting corpse, a story told.
Shackles binding, keeping, killing.
An empty silence, no voice is filling.
Pretty words, stories, tales.
A closing darkness where death prevails.
Where once a man, stood, screamed, and raged.
His body left, alone, and caged.
A story on RepeatFor what it's worth,
It's not worth much.
We walk along,
Never anywhere to actually go.
We say things,
We never mean.
It's an endless cycle,
A story on repeat.
A sad tale,
Of our own invention.
One thousand to go.
Words we have spoken,
We speak again.
An Endless cycle,
A story on repeat.
And whispers in the wind.
An endless cycle,
A story on repeat.
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
SafeI clasped my hand tight shut around my mothers.
I was a possessive oyster wrapped around pearly fingers
bitten white by the freshly whisked air.
We braced ourselves against the frozen metal frames
that, although unmovable by infantile hands,
were not a substantial enough barrier against a tempest.
The sea lashed out its limbs in a fury
and the sky’s face paled grey with worry
at what that grasping anger might achieve.
It rose to greet us, stood on mighty churning haunches
and collapsed heavily around our shoulders
with the dramatic violence of a dancer
crashing down upon a splintered Tibia.
It drenched us, filling mouths and ears with water.
My mother’s hand squeezed mine, comforting,
and as the sea drew back again,
preparing to strike out at us over and over
until its very exhaustion point – and over once more –
As it readied itself to slash our raincoats,
with the force of an evening spiralling into true darkness,
over and over –
for a moment the smell o
Mr MrWith words I cannot utter,
not even to silence.
You cross my mind,
and hold my heart.
With the pain it all brings,
I don't even notice.
You're the drug that I crave,
Addicted to the numbness.
The perfect melody,
a chorus stuck in my head.
I'm lost with you,
drowning in your fire.
You're all I wanna see,
Dreaming when I'm awake.
I need a way,
just to escape.
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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