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As I inaudibly crumbleThe first thing that I can assure you of is the fortitude of my soul: I am a pact so strong that even the hurricane which caused my house to tear apart couldn't budge me. So strong, that even the earthquake that cracked the face of my school building couldn't chip me. So strong, that no amount of tidal waves could crash and break into my walls, my being. I am a pact made of several precious trinkets, letters and colors bound fervently. My frame has become a watchtower and my spirit, its sentry; I fulfill set duty. I am a pact so strong that I crave for certain commotion over what it is that I am, I wear and bare my vanity. I am a thrill seeker, a bungee jumper. I thrive off adrenaline rushes brought about by the feeling of close calls, the always present possibility of a snapping of the cord, a real potential to, not just fall, but truly crash and burn from grace. I am of a life wanting to be fully fueled, felt and fulfilled. I am a draconian as an experienced freedom fighter.
unrequieti kind of like the idea that
i will always be too terrifying,
and you too terrified:
i cannot be the lie you want to live.
so you'll have your arranged marriages,
and i my fear of falling,
and sometimes we'll steal to our own far off places,
out the steel plastic doors while no one's looking
to the place where boundless fields are,
just made for walking and talking and laughing our heads off,
and it's lovely, truly,
the way our hands at our sides sometimes brush,
even if they never can quite take hold of each other.
Ovid KafkaThese streetlights are burning bushes-
These veins are roadmaps home from Narnia,
They are badly battered blood cells
Making a break for it.
Headphone induced deafness
Makes this world so still and serene.
There are no stars.
This is suburbia.
Every tree is an underdog,
A freedom fighter,
Guerilla greenery burst through concrete.
Born from the grey to compete with the high rises.
You are beautiful like pirouettes in parking lots
By some guys who thought no one was watching.
Like kicking a habit in the fucking teeth.
Your smile makes me think of molars to curbs,
Bodies to bricks.
Consecrating unions with the ground
Making gravestone flower babies.
Painting with pollen,
Exploding in sneezes.
We are married to earth.
For better, for worse
In sickness and health,
We're stuck with ourselves.
Feet on the ground and head in the clouds.
Chase rainbows recklessly.
Blow them up with Roman candles.
The sky is a glass ceiling.
Make it rain.
comatose.i never told you:
i hated the way you smelled
like winter, like
fog or listerine or
something long forgotten.
i guess i miss you the way
i miss brooklyn,
all thirsty for a song
i've never heard, pining for
a place i've never been.
i never told you:
i keep your old promises all tucked up inside,
like bruises sleeping fallow
along my hipbones.
i promise i'll love you always, i promise
i'll fix the coffee machine tomorrow,
and if you let me,
i'll fix you
well, you never were a fixer.
what you are is tired, and you never understood
why this fucked-up little town
unmade its bed, swallowed an ambien,
swallowed you. listen:
we were always comatose, clutching
hands gone cold
REGRETSRegrets come from altars and dried flowers from special days. They grow in cupboard of past homes and apartments. Regrets blow on the breeze of lost words, missing kisses and last breaths. Regrets are what guilt is left as a residue, a reminder of the past, a harsh penalty for not doing something, for doing something, for feeling wrong. The heart knows there is regret, the head knows there is regret but you can't fix regrets. You'll sit and wonder, sigh with sadness, knowing, feeling that you can't change what you did, change what you said, change for better or for worse. Regrets last a lifetime. All those memories you have, most of them will fester with regrets. One day you'll realise these regrets are just dragging you down, but, until then you'll lie in the shallow pool of regrets waiting for someone or something you help you out.
For My DaughterDear daughter-I-do-not-have-yet,
You will be my perfect. You will be my proudest moments in one small person. You will be made in love, or maybe anger, or maybe even desperation. But that won't matter. What matters is what you will be made into.
You will have Daddy's hair and his nose, and my eyes and my smile, the smile that happens not because someone with a camera told you to, but because you're genuinely happy. But you will have your very own heart and will be full of all the things that give you your you-ness. Whether you sing in the bath or make Valentines for everyone in your class or give your last homemade chocolate chip cookie to the boy sitting alone at recess.
I will write you poems and stories about how you are my miracle. I will read them to you sometimes, just to remind you. As you grow, not a day will go by that I'm not thankful for everything you are. You will be dazzling and beautiful and brilliant and compassionate and playful and curious and all of the things
To My Father's HealerAn open letter to the man who saved my father's life
It becomes apparent as I open this letter that I can never begin it correctly. I do not know what to write, for I do not know your name. I know that you are a doctor, is that how someone is supposed to begin a letter to a man they have never met?
Nobody ever told me your name. I know, though, the other things they told me. Perhaps I could use them to fill the gaps, but part of me fears that removing the distance will take away some of the fascination. I know that you are more than just 'a doctor', I know that you are one of only four people in the whole world who knew how to do the surgery that you performed on my father. I know that the first time my father went up to Birmingham you weren't there, because you were in America. I do not know if you were there to teach, to save the life of someone else, or if it was something else entirely. Regardless of the reason, I am sure there was at least one person there who ben
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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