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Left behindWhere to go
Left or right
Up or down
Or to hate
When I'm left alone
You always tell me we're a family
That you love me
How am I supposed to believe you?
Always being left behind
By you and your other mistake
Both of you think I'll always be around
You think I'll keep taking your hatred
And your failed attempts at love
Always having to hear about how much you hate each other
What am I left with?
You think this helps me?
How am I supposed to take my being of life seriously?
Everyday feeling like both of you planned to have me and some sick joke
Am I that worthless to you?
Everyday I ask
Where do I go?
When you leave me behind
One day I'll have my answer
Curiosity Killed The CatHopes are high.
[thoughts of happiness and peace]
Head held up so high,
my nose touches the light blue sky.
[such a picture perfect day]
Life is finally on a stable train tracks of life.
[no signs of the devils of handy work]
Everything is at peace in my little world.
[days pass by]
Everything is at peace.
[eye catching sight]
A sign from afar appears,
my curiosity is sparked,
Like a child I turn towards it.
[to far to make out the words]
Maybe it's a sign of more good fortune,
to my peaceful train of hope.
[hopeful or ignorant?]
The train begins to rock angrily back and forth,
almost throwing me off.
[I wish it had]
All my hope comes crashing down.
The sky I once looked up to has shattered,
into a million pieces.
[all that's left is black]
The carts of my train break off,
come crashing down into flames.
[I wish i was in one of them]
Every ounce of hope I once had has exploded in my face.
[should have seen it coming]
All that's left is the sign
my curiosity i
A Canvas Of ScarsMy entire body is just a canvas
of my pathetic life.
My body, bruised and scarred
from the abuse of others,
and some of my own doing.
A canvas that was painted throughout years,
the brush forged from denial,
the oil void of hope.
Am I just a rejected soul,
that society will never love?
Or was I a misunderstood boy,
who will one day become suicidal?
My lost hope began
at such a small age,
a five year old innocently at play.
Age nine a secret emerges within my soul,
but has yet shown it's devious little head
Age twelve certain curiosities sprout in my mind,
that a normal boy shouldn't be having.
Looking at boys in a peculiar way,
strong desires filling the heart.
Age sixteen still denying what I truly am,
the others around me casting me away.
I try as hard as I can to drown my denial
in drugs and self mutilation
Age eighteen, where I am now,
looking back at what a fool I was.
All the abuse I inflicted on myself,
has become one of many drugs I am addicted to.
What am I to do?
If I ever....If I ever poke you it's cause I want you to notice me
If I ever hug you it's cause I want to make you happy
If I ever suddely pull ou away from soemone it's cause I get jealous
If I ever say your my pet it's cause I love you to death
If I ever suddely glomp you it's cause I want you to play with me
If I ever break out dancing out of now hwere it's cause I'm in my own little world
If I ever hug you for a long period of time it's cause i want you to feel better
If I ever say....If I ever say your name it's cause I aknowledge you
If I ever say I want a hug is cause I want to feel coser to you
If I ever say that your the best it's cause you are
If I ever say what's wrong it's cause I'm worried about you
If I ever say how was your day it's cause I'm bored
If I ever say meow it's cause want you to notice me
If I ever say I hate you it's cause I love you
If I ever say I love you you better believe that I do
Tunnel VisionThere once an akward girl who had no friends and no one really knew her
She would walk around with her head down as if she was in shame
But truly she just couldn't bare to be looked in the eye for fear of looks she might get
She was blinded by her tunnel vision always walking a straight line never knowing where she was going
Till one day she heard a rumble in her little tunnel and saw that a crack was being formed she ran the opposite direction fearing change in her little tunnel
When the crack finally collapsed it formed a hole in a shape of an odd heart and a gleaming glow beamed through
The awkward girl just squinted her eyes as she tried to see trough the oddly heart shaped hole but she was out of luck
Her attention was turned to something under the rumble that started to move
But she didn't dare go near it
When the strange thing arose it was an overly hyper girl
The awkward girl looked down and asked why she was here
The Strange girl just looked at her and smiled and said "I want
Point of view of the deadIt's the day of your funeral and you watch from you coffin as relatives cry and weep in front of you
Saying prayers and leaving roses
They pray that when god passes judgment on you his final verdict is that you go to heaven and are able to climb the golden stair case
And As you lay there you know there prayers are pointless because of all the evil you had done and never asked for forgiveness
The door on your coffin closes and you feel yourself being lifted and lowered into a hole
All the while hearing weeps and pleads for you to live again
And all you can do is lay there and wait for your body to decay
The BirthdayThe day has come when you have lived another year
A day most celebrate
This day just means your a year closer to death
It's true that you have lived another year and have grown more wise
But is a birthday really such a great thing
A birthday means you have gone around the earth and are just gonna go around again and again until the day you die
With each year that you live is a year of more responsibilities and more of your childhood gone
So is a birthday such a great thing.
The ShellShe sits and watches the world pass her by not daring to step out of her shell
She is afraid to leave the protective shell she has built over the years of neglect
She believes that if you stays in her shell she will be alright and live on
The shell protects her from ever being hurt from a once loved person
The shell is both her haven and her prison
Protecting her from the pain of rejection and imprisoning her from having a real life.
She has a false reality that she can never live on if she leaves her shell
Beyond LoveYou say 'beautiful' like a mistake -
like it slipped out unwarranted
from those dark parts of your mind
that you don't want me to go to,
you say it like that.
You caress like it's worship -
like if you pressed too hard
or took too much, you'd pay the price
and I love those urgent times when
you're willing to pay it.
You teach me love like I'll die without it -
like if you don't defrost me
and my frozen image of myself,
then I might stop breathing
and extinguish beneath my own icy damnation.
You kiss me like you have to -
like we're sharing an oxygen tank
in a toxic, broken-down universe
and you are trying not to breathe
to save me.
You kiss me like that.
You love me, like that -
how am I supposed to resist
a man who loves me beyond his own sense
and senses - beyond love ?
In SanityI find myself in a world of white,
This place it feels so pure.
The Sun's rays are warm and bright
I've never felt so sure.
I explore the land and all its sights,
I enjoy the world's grand tour.
I wander around until the night
Shows what it has in store.
In the darkness, a speck of light
Reveals a hidden door.
I turn the handle and peer inside,
A sight I can't endure.
I turn to run, to escape my plight,
I dare not to explore.
But something inside catches my eye,
I can't resist the lure.
I awake to find myself tied tight,
A voice tries to assure,
"This one may finally fix you right,
Maybe this is the cure."
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.
kafka has been dead foreveri.
I am going to cut the veins out of my neck:
pull the stars from the legiments
drown the cities in bruises
I am going to burn in hell:
tear down the pyramids, the faces, the continents
the weight of the universe
(if I live to be 20
I will know the landscape of my mind
as well as the bottom of the ocean
& people I've never met)
the secret is the almond
in your brain
you should listen when it screams
to run away
there is nothing
in your ribcage
one half of a clichè.
if I'm made
of bones and chemicals,
cold calculus, or
man of science
tell me why
think away the pain.
Do not be ridiculous,
love was just dark chocolate,
of rancid coffee.
Pop Rocksbeads of roman sweat and dust
lace the wind like meth into pop rocks—
feel the fizzlepop of history flamenco
across your justahuman tongue
and wonder why your professor never
lectured on the strawberry tang
of crusaders' sloshed blood.
Stereotypical SuicideSuicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a family,
Nobody who lives for their care,
Nobody who wants them around,
Nobody who helps them through life,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has friends,
Not a person there for a simple hug,
Not a person existing for a reassuring look,
Not a person around to leave the words,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a home,
No place to live and feel happy in so,
No place to live without leaving again,
No place to live to avoid the truth,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a love,
Nothing there to hold them in warm arms,
Nothing there for a kiss to remember,
Nothing there to be a greatness in life,
Suicide is not a stereotype.
Not everyone has a someone,
"Don't do it - for your family
They mean nothing to me anymore,
"Don't do it - for your friends"
Friends? What friends? They don't exist,
"Don't do it - what about home
sunset soon forgottenin a single moment all her greatness collapsed,
her soulfulness small and full of absence.
i am wild
with infinite shades of yes -
and a careless smile
so kiss me quick
under the sun
(just until the pain leaves)
DunesOut on the dunes, you could be walking on the moon
Maybe you are, maybe we are; see that planet in the sky?
How much more can be said about body heat, about
Sucking the marrow from bones in a vain attempt to quench?
Disheveled by dust-storms in an ocean of sand, we walk
Blank-window eyes searching for what, some sort of life?
Our feet are heavy, the ground wants to eat them; no moon, this
Now the sky is the color of sand, and there are no stars to wish on
Sweat and dead weight, we wait for the coolness of night
Fatigued, delusional, we see a rusty car approach; we get in
The Imaginary FriendWhat is an imaginary friend?
Someone you create to escape your boredom
Or the first signs of insanity
When your a young child and your parent's see you talk to yourself they automatically think that you have an imaginary friend
But what does this imaginary friend tell you to do?
Most tell you lets have a race or play a game they let you win of course
What does mine tell me to do?
Is my dark voice that tells me to steal and burn things
She's looks like a shadow figure of me
And with a laugh so creepy it would make your hair's stand on end
All i see is her teeth when she gives me a crooked smile
Most would think I was hearing voice and think i have some dieses
But can it be just my imagination working it's magic
Should i listen to my dark self?
Sure why not I'm bored
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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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