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if I angle just so,
and cut in ribbons
instead of lines
my skin will finally fall away.
I won't have senses
yet I will feel everything.
No one will see me,
but I can fix everything.
Piece by piece,
in the ocean of the soul.
Let them feel the vibration;
let them feel the absence.
Released, they will
fix it themselves.
what I have left behind:
crawls into my skin;
the maggots and rot and filth.
saving the world
from being saved.
Alice, Don't Jump!wait! please,
[feet, calm your anticipation
brain, control your curiosity]
Alice, don't jump!
tell me something first.
will you take me with you?
I've seen what's down there -
I know what we're up against.
(well...the costumes vary
and the faces are fickle
but I can be useful, I promise!)
[down there, I'll know -
for once -
what to eat, to drink
what doors to open]
Just follow me, Alice!
It'll be easier
if you close your eyes -
and get used to
of never leaving.
we could be together
[I could live inside your head
and become as small as I need,
or as tall as I want]
take my hand, Alice
any road you choose,
TrampledHis voice is a tortured scream dragged over broken glass. His eyes are loaded guns, death-black bullets taunting me from within barrels the color of despair, the color of drowning.
The Grinch takes notes on this guy.
He came to our middle school at the end of sixth grade. Posed no threat. Something about me pissed him off in seventh grade. I was a little too fat, talked a little too loud, dressed the wrong way. Not that I was trying to please anyone. But the first time I heard that word leave his lips, my middle school days became a downward emotional spiral I still claw my way through to this day.
cow (kou) noun
1. An adult female of cattle, raised especially for her milk.
2. An adult female of some other large mammals, including seals and whales.
He started with this animal and then many more followed - some names were his, some from his friends. Pig. Walrus. Whale. Chewbacca. Before the school year was over I was an entire
ColdHis simplest request
takes all of my effort.
- like it's nothing.
But I'm afraid
I've given them all away.
The truth is so dense
and the lies are piling on.
So much to know -
so much to know how to ignore.
I have two choices:
remain ignorant. A hypocrite, sickened by loneliness
wanting to howl and claw at the closed door
waves stealing my air, bruising -
saturated with new words
Ask me about my day,
But you won't get the sunshine and glitter
that you need
to pull you from your own pit.
Just poke at
the cold ashes
and pretend that they can warm
AmerigoI bear the skin
once soaked in the blood of genocide.
I inherited the will
of a flightless dreamer, a fickle hero.
The hero was a pawn
in the spiderweb affairs of
the place I call home:
a home full of strangers,
with shrapnel stuck in the walls
like graffiti; professing freedom as we snatch it away.
This is my home,
They will not be my prison.
My Dear Sons and DaughtersFall in love with everything
Fall in love with ideas: anarchy
and LaVeyan Satanism.
Fall in love with solitary back-packing
through Israel or Mexico.
Fall in love with gamma radiation
or tiger-taming, MMA cage fighting
or free-climbing the Rocky Mountains,
but do not fall in love
People will want you
for your similarities to one
or more of their parents;
they will want you
for the outline, the concept of you;
they will want you
because you want them –
they will not know
what they want.
People will take the bed you shared
and fuck other people
in the barely cooled indent
of your absent body
(they will also take your cat,
leaving you with scarred hands
and nothing for them to stroke).
They will promise to never leave you
and maybe they won’t,
but they will buckle you in with them
on the bipolar-coaster,
left flying off unfinished tracks,
and you will have to jump,
They will be perfect
except for little things –
answering their pho
dragonfly wingsi. There is an entire generation of humans who grew up learning how to be murderers,
learning how to wound creatures for an audience and a laugh, and oh
how they love to laugh, pigtailed executioners
and torturers of all that frail life
that could be contained in a quiet garden.
ii. They take spiders by their bellies and put them one each on two ends of a stick,
and they poke and prod and push until one decides to eat the other,
for there must be a duel, there must be a death, or there is no fun,
and the children will race off to find new things to hurt.
They take dragonflies by the wings and stick their jewel tails into electric sockets,
playing god in their pajamas, leaving peanut butter fingerprints
on the little pockets of heaven they find and fight over,
keeping the pretty pieces for their scrapbooks, like you could trap life
beneath scotch tape and label it between lines red-blue-red.
iii. Well maybe they know better, if you want to believe there's a muted brilliance
Do you have a second?Can I tell you something?
Just listen for a second.
I think that you're amazing.
Not just you,
But who you really are.
What I see underneath.
Sure you can be mean sometimes.
But I've seen you be sweet.
I'm not blind.
And your looks are perfect
No I'm not saying you are the most beautiful
Or the most handsome person in the world.
I'm saying you are perfect.
Your eyes can hold a gaze for hours.
Your smile can draw anyone away from the world.
Your laugh can brighten up anyone's day.
And your personality can make anyone fall in love.
I wish I could tell you that in person
But this poem must suffice
Because where you are is a mystery
But who you are, isn't.
You Leave Me WantingI want to see the sparkle of the stars in your eyes,
Glimmering darkness that beholds my fallen form.
With arms as hard as redwood trees, sweeping through the skies,
You dig beneath my rooted earth and leave what lingers torn.
I want that you give agency and life to my heart.
I want to feel the quiet between our warm breath.
Most of all, I want to know we are not miles apart;
Without you by my fumbling side, I am repurposed death.
We may ride together down this road of foiling tests
Until our legs are shattered and our lungs beg air
And our bodies fall in unison, taken with rest;
Though we may be broken, we'll bask and bloom in our love's snare.
Appear OfflineIt’s easy to miss you in the 21st century
with a little green dot next to your name
with a myriad of ways to grasp across the distance
but my phone has broken
your internet’s terrible
and facebook chat never works
so I’m left to miss you by candlelight
watching a lonely sea
debating a letter
wondering how anyone ever coped
HyperawareI know the thumping of blood in my fingers,
the twinge in my back,
the tension behind my calves far too well.
The bristle of cold is too much
but the silence without the fan is suffocating.
My blankets are too heavy,
settled over my torso like the rock in my chest
but I can’t sleep without the weight.
This awareness is a manifestation of my longing;
for your hands in my hair,
your warmth at my spine,
your shoes on my floor.
This is what I feel when I can’t feel you –
fixations that drive me to insomnia.
Only the trains are any comfort,
plowing away into the night
screaming here I am; there I go
like world-weary tramps moving just to be moving.
Like you, working just to be working,
burning midnight oil and paper
when you could be breathing fire down my neck.
To the one who holds my heart.I looked into your heart and found a mirror of mine;
the sacred scarlet muscle that so drives our lives.
That bloody pumping rhythm is so hard to define,
and does assault my mind like a thousand buzzing hives.
And yet without this confusion love has no spine,
'tis but a sordid wasteful thing which never survives.
In you I see something that does make stars align,
a power beyond time, keener than sharpest knives.
And it is through this Earth that we will ride
Without fair guidance or friendly hand
To guide us to that so surreptitious lonesome path.
I take the pain of this world in my stride,
and wonder solemnly if this was all planned
Or if our emblazoned love transcends all wrath.
HotlineThe first time I dialled your number I felt a skipping in my chest
the skip that comes with talking to strangers
the skip that tells me that I’m strapped into the rollercoaster, ready or not for the ride.
You answered, and your voice was like a cave,
deep and warmish and mossy
with echoes trapped inside the dark spaces
like a cave to keep me safe from the storm.
I spoke to you and my own voice was like cobblestones,
cracked and scattered
strewn out across a much-trodden road and kicked into the gutter,
like cobblestones with missing bits, crumbling from the elements.
You told me that things would get better from here on out,
that I’d made the first step and
that you would talk to me for as long as it took to get me from one place to another one
or longer, even.
You spoke to me about large things
responsibility and Ferris wheels and distant nebulas
you spoke to me about small things
garden mice and sub-atomic particles and how many spoonfuls of sugar you take with your tea.
Seam StressThe heaviness settled in like an anvil being dropped on me. I couldn't take the fog inside my head and the lead inside my heart anymore, so I sat in the sun to melt it away. I wanted to sear every surface until I couldn't feel anymore. What kind of life is that, though, to never feel anything? To never feel the joy of love; the way it wraps its arms around your heart and traces its fingertips along your veins? Even the pain of looking back at love's scattered memories is necessary to understand how beautiful the feeling once was; how lucky you were to have ever felt its lips press to your cheek, its breath collect in the hollow of your neck. Love does these things, sews itself right up inside you to close the holes within.
You'll be told you'll find another. You'll be told to go, go and find happiness because all this is, is hurt, and nothing else. The problem is, your heart doesn't understand the complexities of bad timing or fear or settling for another because of low self-worth. You
SnowI have not been in love.
No one has taken
a box cutter to my heart
and stomped the blood into the carpet -
at least not the same person
who stitched me together
in the morning.
But I have loved
pixels and magazine clippings
and the satellites of kittens' ears.
I have loved tinkling bells.
The human voice
can make me float.
(drowned or free?)
I have loved
a snowglobe world
in which people are people
and there are no words
in any languages
next to the bar code.
The more I learn,
the more my mind opens -
like the rose trembling outward,
confused in the cold -
the more I worry
that I will never rid myself
Even (especially) of
the labels that don't
think they exist.
The more I fall in love
with objects and ideas
the more I realize that
doing the same to a human being -
would be just like
watching the snow
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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