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a thousand ways to give upevery poem starts about you.
you are what you like to be,
and you are not like me.
i write about your innocence,
i write about your trials,
i write about our common goals,
and your misdemeanor smiles.
but then it all gets twisted around
and it's not worth the point
because it's all about
he's a monster,
he's a creep
and a crawler
it all comes back to him
as much as i would like to go
back to the beginning.
patternyou kill me twelve times over
i'm a coward, not a lover.
there's nothing pretty about me
there's nothing pretty about letting go.
don't pity who i want to be just
because i can't seem to grow.
i can count my ribs but it takes both hands
and a lot of searching, because it seems
i'm never good enough for me
so how could you ever be?
a star is fancy heartbreakshe thought back to when she had assumed her life to be very terrible.
her mother tyrannical, her reflection her biggest comfort and largest source of panic.
mirrors were for smashing and
mouths were for hissing, and
nails were for scratching.
now mirrors were for him;
for watching him shatter them if he saw her
now mouths were for him;
for kissing him when he didn't even remember who she was,
or maybe was just too tired to care
now nails were for him;
for biting, and wondering if he
was going to come home at all,
or if he had really forgotten about her this time
in the time that had passed,
the day or two that he seemed
alive again seemed to slip from her memory
she was tossed into the sea
of his carelessness and indifference
without a life vest.
And at the moments when she
felt particularly alone,
large waves of his ghost-like apathy
would threaten to drown her.
molly loubroken, broken, broken.
all she ever saw were pieces torn apart
laid forgotten to the wayside.
if only she could speak
of all her tradgedies
the wrongs done against her
and the the alabaster ceilings.
he holds her hand
and her hair back,
(when she needs it)
he's afraid to lay in bed with her
until she says she needs him there
but she doesn't know what she
and she writes on his arms
and her lips burn with words
hushed on an acid tongue
he's entranced with all her
ideas and curves and talents and faults
and she's still lost, floating through space
just the begining of a dream
(and he wants to be her end)
she's colorless, but bright
and tasteless in her delight
she's a burning inferno of fire
and ice, and another broken vice.
she's tried to tell him, in that
mixed up way she has of tearing
up her words.
but he won't listen.
but his memory.
ceberushe was once a wicked thing
devoid of a tongue and wings
the fallen angel left to writh
on what had once been her
she left him mute
as if he had spoken
to begin with.
she was his stars, his night,
clashing like the teeth
gnashing from the jaws
better to split and stay together
than combust as one.
burglarcould i talk through windows
could i look through walls?
thieving away my hopes and lies
second hand verses, chords we don't know
we don't understand how to play
but you sing me to sleep anyway
full of dreams that chase my
and it's becoming obvious
that i can't give you up
so, it's getting late,
won't you stay?
there's a key to my heart
and i don't know where it lays
but i bet if you opened your eyes
long enough to look,
it would fit perfectly in your hand
but you don't need it anyway
because you're breaking in
coming in here to steal my
breath and smile
lie of a different sortIt scared her, at first, the way he came back to her with such ferocity. She wasn't used to it at all; usually he was soft with her. She had been half expecting him to turn her away. But he didn't, and she wondered if that should have scared her more. Kisses all down her shoulders, hands grasping at her hips. She leaned back, an odd content feeling coming over her. It was weird; she could never describe it. Just relaxation. Maybe not what you were supposed to feel. She should have been scared, the longer it went on the violence her put on her. But she never was.
She shook her head when he pulled away, like he noticed what he was doing. "I don't care," she said earnestly. And you could see it, she really didn't care. She almost begged him not to stop, Minerva didn't care. Be happy, she thought, even if it's like this. Before, she'd been in a situation like this, and she had retaliated against him like the crack of a whip. Now she just laid in his arms, her only support was Caleb
she's my best friendeveryday i change.
in every pair of eyes i'm different.
they see me as the tease
the bitch, the whore, the heartbreaker.
then they see me as strong
they relay, they think i'll never break
but she sees me the way i am
loud, but silent, strong, but broken.
and she sits with me in the dark when
i make late night phone calls that should
have happened months ago, but no one answers
and then it's quiet again
and i'm back to me
in the silence of the dead of night
things can seem so different
from talk of neon bands and clowny-creepers
(and a little too-cheerful of a ninja)
you can feel that grin coming on
and that's how i know that i belong
don't fight your faceshe's got angel's tangled in her hair
so that it looks like pure lace
and she's got their jaded wings
tattoed across her face
she's got their halos wrapped
around her bloody wrists
and everytime she twists the knife
she leans in for another kiss
her lips are sultry,
stained in red,
and the covers lay ragged
over and under the decrepit bed
things hang under the gallows
like the dead little souls that lost
their lives under the wood
and wander as the forgotten ghosts
she knows they're there
she watches they're hopes
as they die into pains
and forgotten notes
she wishes she could drop
the double bladded knife
and erase away the hurt
of each forgotten strife
but the wrong day
leads to the night
and every wrong word
leads into a fight
and she can't help but win
with the angels on her side
even if they're just trying
to hold on for the ride
My mind deals with
Overcomes my judgement
Today it's no different
I can't take it anymore
Observing my image but
Nothing is revealed
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
To the person who holds my best friend's heart...I know that is is kind of weird
But I felt that I should write this down.
I need to tell you what I feel
And tell you what he means to me.
He's my best friend and he's a good man.
Please, give him the love and respect he deserves.
He may seem goofy but he's very sweet.
I know this because he was always there for me when I was sad.
Now, I know that you're not bad
Cause he would never choose someone who's mean.
But I still want to tell you just in case you forget in the future;
Please don't break his heart.
He's been through so much
And he doesn't deserve something like that.
He is the kind of person who smiles even when he's hurt by others
And would take any pain for the people he loves.
I know, I've witnessed it.
I know he may seem kind of childish sometimes
But don't let it get to you.
It's just his way of expressing himself.
He's very caring and I'm sure he'll do anything to make you happy.
He doesn't look like it but he's very kind and thoughtful.
He'll put your needs before h
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
forgive meunrequited, unresponsive
your heart's like a wrist watch
binding my bone.
and i can't think of the
right things to say
when i know that
the way that i say it
will always sound wrong.
and you will always
watch me, and want
to hold me, want to
and i know you want
me to want you,
because i want to.
but i can't.
and that's why
i let you go.
and i can't think
of the words to
that i've done.
god, i love you.
you're too great
for words to be
but i'm not in love
and i really can't
do these things to
you, keeping you
around when one
eye's always down
at my shoes so i
can avoid talking
and i can't
do what i
wish i could
make myself do
i never thought i'd be able to write about it, think about it, talk about, breathe about it...
but here it is.
fuck my life.
it seems that every comment on my poetry has something about fucking my life...
(tehe... my life's a whooore)
... long story short, i sat myself down, and just had a little mental chat.
i felt like everyday i had to talk myself into accepting that relationship. and it wasn't right, because he deserved better than that, than someone who just wasn't right.
and i decided that that little piece of me had the right idea. and i regret hurting him, rarely do i ever regert hurting people, but that i regret.
it did help me see the larger picture that's me, but i still regret it.
i wouldn't take it back though, because of the understanding i've given myself in my world of self-doubt.
but yes, i regret the hurt i accidentally gave.
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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