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Day 244She has her wings now, frail like a butterflies.
But, she wears them proudly, as she shines
in this glittered spectrum of her new self.
She's almost near her inner perfection.
Becoming the one thing she has always dreamed of.
Taking more interest in her self,
she realizes that she can finally fly.
She sees that she isn't a stupid winged creature.
She is an intelligent and beautiful butterfly.
And now that she knowsknowsknows,
she's ready to take flight.
Day 243It feels so nostalgic to be holding papers written
in my fourth grade hand and looking through photos
at a girl who never really stood a chance at love.
I was innocent; with awards and straight A's and the ability
to turn a phrase and keep too many journals.
I wrote poems and drew on the sides of my notebooks.
And there were stories about wishes for cherry rain
and taking my mother out to dinner.
I had loved my mother.
And happiness didn't lay in my heart for myself, but for everyone else.
With the only hate on a misconstrued view of my dear father.
And during those days, I kept notes that belonged to others
and little messages were scribbled onto the corners of my papers.
"Julian's head is so big" or odd mumblings that
won't ever make sense to me now.
And as I look back at these phases of my life,
I begin to wonder and almost miss this stranger that was me before.
Day 242I'm tripping over myself aimlessly
and trying to find some stability.
I'm losing control of my thoughts and footing
as each step is a step
towards another mistake.
The world is sloping downwards
and this hill is becoming dangerously steep.
I can feel myself tumbling along,
waiting for the world to just disappear beneath me.
My emotions are at an angle,
too sharp and too odd for my own good.
I'm suffering from the projections of my mood;
I'm dropping in degrees with each foot.
And as I walk, there's no direction,
no destination to steer me to better places.
And I know I'm going to lose
myself to these drastic life changes.
Day 241I want to tear a hole into my chest;
where my heart beats
and myself drowns within a mess.
I'm dying on the inside
and I want everyone to see.
My fingers poking out of my lungs,
my hands aching to be reached.
I'm calling out for help,
scribbling words into my skin.
Cut, carve and curl my edges,
until every space and every crevice and every crack
is filled with pointless ramblings.
I'm so broken.
And a monster eats away at my thoughts.
Chewing down my common sense,
until I slowly wither and rot.
I'm an almost complete nothing,
trying to hold on, but feeling myself slip.
If only my dreams weren't of kissing within fires
and drowning within oceans
and the moon crushing my very being,
perhaps I would be able to pull myself back up again.
Day 240I'm an achy-breaky- mess again.
Coloring outside the lines in blue hues.
I'm scribbling myself in tired circles,
digging the crayon into my paper skin.
A well marked misshapen reminder
that my life is just a shape.
One that doesn't ever end
and continues to meet up at the corners.
And when I'm crumpled around the edges,
torn and broken and crinkled in the mind,
my thoughts and feelings get tossed about aimlessly,
thrown out with the rest of life.
Because I'm simply blown over,
dragged under and forgotten.
I'm just this little Miss Piece of Waste
that's put out in the trash when no longer wanted.
Day 239There's a fear for every fellow;
my heart is bound to feeling scared for others.
While he drowns within a pool of sharks,
I'm trying to save another from a bottomless pit.
So dark and alarming,
all I can do is panic.
I reach out before she falls
and watch while he tries to fit in.
I'm trying to save everyone,
but inside my head I know it's too much.
My memories scratched down the walls of my conscience,
and I'm trying to ignore the marks.
But, my heart tends to fail me
and I can't stand my own wits.
I'm trying and trying and trying
to fight my fears for them,
even though I surely won't win.
And as my temple crumbles
and my walls come crashing down.
I will surely drown within my fears again
because since the beginning,
that is where my heart has been bound.
Day 238Let me take your words
and tie them with pretty little bows.
for your papers and feelings.
I don't care for their meanings.
I just want to dress them up and pretend I can stand them.
And you ask me why I'm dancing so slow,
twirling a knife and carving into my soul.
I'm taking you out.
I'm removing you from my chest.
I don't want you to be a part of my past.
And you watch me curl and fall to the floor,
a throwing of foul words and feelings vomitted.
You make me sick.
And I'm so tired of all of this.
I just want to take your hits and be done with it.
Day 237Go ahead and just let go. I'm
Over trying to hold
On to you and your hand. I
Don't want to be your friend.
Boy, let's stop playing pretend. It's not like
You really believed we were friends to begin with. And
Eventually you were willing to say goodbye someday.
Day 236You have me chasing you through my dreams
trying to hold onto something that just has no hope.
We are racing down dark hallways with too many doors.
I don't know which one to open.
I'm afraid of the memories each one holds.
And you can't quite grasp why I grow tired
of trying to get you to understand.
My words aren't enough.
And the distance to you changes everything we had.
I wish you could see that this friendship is a pile of dust.
A mess of my fallen words that slipped off my tongue.
I want to cut, cut, cut them into my skin.
Try to comprehend them.
Memorize and understand.
Because I can't quite figure out where things got out of hand.
And you can only whisper me your sorrys,
trying to give me something to hold onto.
But, I'm done, done, done.
I'm no longer wanting to be your friend,
when you clearly have proven to me that from the beginning,
I really wasn't one.
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
Day 116You try to fool me with all your lies,
covering up a face so strange.
But, I know what you're like on the inside,
and I find the monster beautiful anyways.
You say your bad luck walking my way,
and I just dismiss it all with a kiss.
I don't care for such superstititions,
I just live for what is and this.
You try to convince me that you're not worth it,
and you throw words that are never too nice.
But, I keep holding on like crazy,
because I can relate to living a difficult life.
You say you don't understand my actions,
and you pry me with questions and obscene words.
I just tell you it's very simple darling,
that I am the only one who can see your worth.
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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