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What I Hide...I've come to be a silly fool
who somehow, still belives in fate-
Logically, I know it's wrong,
and fairytales are overrated,
Still I place significance in
actions that I doubt have any.
And though I still believe there's One,
Already I have loved too many.
But here, again, I reach to you,
with another piece of heart in hand,
Hoping I won't lose it to
another clumsy, careless man.
The truth is, I can barely stand
to be near you, but I cannot leave,
I only hope for some reprieve from
unrequietedness. I'm still naive.
I still believe there's hope for me,
for now, I place that faith in you,
the steel blue stare I cannot bear,
I cannot bare my love for you.
I only hope that you will find
something in me no other's seen
And save me from this viscious cycle,
of wanting what will never be.
A Bad HabitYou are the smoke that fills my lungs,
the nicotine that speeds my heart,
and calms me when I am frazzled.
One day, I was dazzled by
the blue in your eyes,
like the tip of a lit cigarette,
burning you to my memory,
and the addiction began.
Now, I crave you,
I am enslaved by you,
and, without a clue, you
drift away, like smoke.
Writing on the WallMost days, there is only you, and I,
and the wall that separates us.
I'd like to tear it down,
to pull you in, and fill Our space with
There were days, before the freeze
that I found warmth in your arms,
and we spoke with ease
but they have passed, and now
there is mostly silence
or small talk to pass the time.
You brought me into your world once.
I felt like I belonged,
like your songs were mine and
I already knew their words.
Days later, I sang them for you,
but you didn't seem to recognize the tunes.
I see myself in you-
but I fear you'll never see yourself
If there is "meant to be,"
I thought this is what it would feel like:
A name that leapt from a page
and etched itself to memory-
An unknown face, familiar as my own.
A heartbeat that now seems to never still.
And still, there is the wall
once filled with you- now empty
as the girl who loves you silently,
just on the other side.
I Forget MyselfIt's too easy to forget I am not desirable
when men smile at me and tell me I'm
pretty and funny and smart.
When they look me in my eyes, I lose my heart,
and feel as that maybe, just this once,
they saw something else. Something besides.
But I know that those are lies, and I'm a fool
for not minding my heart a little better,
wearing it a little closer to the vest.
And that's how I get myself into these messes,
where I am all tears and longing and
wanting and knowing that I should've known better.
But somewhere, beneath these layers of flesh,
hope still flutters up into my chest,
and sometimes, makes its way out, and I believe,
just for a moment, that there is someone
who can love me in spite of it all.
Then it's gone, and I am the quivering blob again,
afraid to meet their eyes for fear that
they will see and laugh in pity.
At what point does hope die?
At what point does one become hardened enough
to realize that people are what they are
and beauty isn't in the eye of the beholder, af
I Can Give You LessI am a tragedy, really.
I love with all my being,
and there’s so much of it.
The laws of gravity indicate that
large objects have a pull-
things should gravitate toward me.
But I defy those laws,
you (and all of them) are repelled by me.
Somehow, being the largest thing
in the room makes me
easy to miss, easy to dismiss.
I am not fit for you,
or anyone. I am an earth
with no sun.
I am not enough for you
Too much for you,
and in all my longing,
I am just a joke to you.
I spoke to you with my eyes,
but you were busy
orbiting some stardust,
meanwhile, I am just
Lackluster. I trust you
can't have missed me:
But if you could see me,
You never let me know.
I would give my all for you,
I must confess,
But if, my dear, it pleases you,
I will try to give you less.
Look not with thine eyesI have never loved with my eyes,
my sight has failed me one too many times,
And I declare, the day we met, they did not
see yet how I would come to love you.
It took the sound of your laughter,
the freckled constellation I could count forever after,
dancing gently on the ripple of your arms,
muscled though they're not.
(but enough to send me shivering, with want.)
It took me by surprise to see your hundred smiles,
and realize what some part of me already knew-
I was destined to take leave of all my senses the moment
I laid eyes on you, and smiled and said "Not this time."
These eyes have lied again, They're not designed to
control a heart or make up a mind. And now that I am thus resigned
I can only hope that your eyes, my dear, are just as blind.
KirigamiThose were more than paper dolls.
Their shapes were like shadows,
and I could feel every scissor slash.
I watched you with her, later.
There were shreds of paper beneath my feet,
and I wanted only to cut myself away.
I don't belong there, I well know.
Though lately, I've wanted to,
It's clear that I must go.
They say that I am crafty,
But judging by your laughter,
I'd say it's her hands you are putty in.
And I am just some starving artist
Cutting out a paper heart,
and then ripping it apart again.
You see only "Her" as art,
and you will covet that,
as I do- from afar.
But being artless, I confess
that you're far too near to suit me,
The Death BedIt's a curious thing- a memory foam bed.
Will it still remember me when I am dead?
Will my shape haunt this mattress-
the arch of my back become the curve
that you caress when you miss me most?
Will my ghost tangle itself in bed sheets,
and instead of roaming restlessly,
remember only where it sleeps,
And if you weep, would it feel the tears?
Would it recall the years we spent here?
If I could, I'd offer you my feather pillow,
And wrap you up in blankets
if you promised not to cry
as you remember how we shared our nights:
Turning off the lights and kissing our days away.
If bodily I cannot stay,
Then let me rest in our duvet,
And pray for you to feel me there,
or smell my perfume in the air,
Though I were gone, I'd still be near
and fondly should recall this bed
bought the day before we wed
Where you lay me, and our heads now lie-
if I should lay me down to die.
Blue Eyed BoysThere are blue eyes again-
They always are- the ones that
tear into me, leaving scars
in places I cannot show:
Kissed by burning flames of desire.
I dare not dream that
fire is meant for me, but
some foolish part of me fans
a tiny ember of hope.
My heart has bigger plans than
it will ever realize,
and your eyes are just the kind
to keep that notion alive.
The feel of hot skin
against mine, and normally,
I am inclined to shrink away-
pretend it means nothing,
But I must say,
I could not tear myself
from the warmth
of you pressed into me-
Is it meant to be?
That's no mystery to me-
A great beauty (I'm sure you see) I am not.
I shouldn't give a second thought to
you with me, but then I see
those eyes, those painfully blue eyes.
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."
BloodRunning away, again and again through the years
Moving from white square to black and back
Packing and unpacking things without meaning
Carrying them from here to there religiously
The doctor says there’s nothing wrong, but still
I’m up at three, drinking coffee, coughing up blood
Watching the same old ghosts watching me
I don’t have to pack them when I move, they follow
A cannibal who’s eaten everyone around him
I’ve turned on myself now, three toes already gone
Watching the lights of the modem blink yellow
No connection; another cough, another coffee alone
CarcinogensMy hands smell
like antiseptic solution
and cancer, because
the peroxide won’t
cleanse your cigarette
ashes from my nails,
and the cremation
jar is still smoking.
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)
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 ?
Asperger SyndromeAsperger Syndrome is awesome.
Asperger Syndrome is cool.
Asperger Syndrome rocks.
People with Asperger Syndrome are sweet but not that outgoing.
People with Asperger Syndrome have their interests.
People with Asperger Syndrome have their pet peeves too.
People with Asperger Syndrome are quirky.
People with Asperger Syndrome sometimes have other problems too.
People with Asperger Syndrome have feelings.
People with Asperger Syndrome are people too.
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.
DesiderataHands, chest, fingers, back,
eyes with black hole tunnel heading
soulward, stoic, then sordid whispers,
distorted by shifting, lunging, lifting,
leaning forward, moving back,
supressing, depressing, undressing
expressing obsession, a predilection,
to erect a monument to a
lifetime of pent up good intent,
then spent and going slack, exhaling,
words failing, chest heaving, drinking the sound
of labored breathing, sweat dripping,
then slipping back into
the curtain of the dark of evening.
Keep in Touch!
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