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It Comes in a Bottle.Love. You know it well.
Comes in a bottle, comes with a price.
Sometimes your senses, sometimes your dime,
But mostly your time.
Pain. We know it well.
Conforms to no form,
But utilises every that I know.
To be poetic, love is pain.
To be precise, pain comes from people.
You are a people.
I am but a person.
It is difficult to know a people,
But facile to know a person.
I've known persons,
Dark, bright, grey.
All alive, all breathing.
Some exhale poison, some vitality,
But all breathing.
I do not know you, creature.
You do not breathe.
You do not speak.
You do not love.
Align you not with any,
But with all.
Your shell is familiar.
Your scent is formidable.
Your speech is regrettable.
You are a people,
A phantom pain.
I am a person.
Broken, but strong.
I do not know you, creature.
Suna.i walked outside,
to greet the maiden and the mistress.
one and the same, the two.
the first which you call "the sun"
and i call my one and only,
my dearest love and fondest friend.
vitality in a word,
freedom in another.
warmth and initiative,
inciting bravery, invoking discord!
regality's crest she bears with pride.
all of sound is hers to command,
and upon her loud, abrasive call
we heed and make way for the door!
ay, she shall love me evermore.
but what of the whore?
o, devil's child.
they call you "the moon."
but, i call you my all.
my fault and my truth,
my sway and my feel,
my taste and texture.
you are as i have always wanted to be:
fearless and peerless,
uncontested in the cool sky.
of my lust you make art;
of my art, you erect memorial;
of my being, you make nephilim.
you tame inhibition,
claim master of my secrecy,
and allow me to soar.
ay, i shall love you evermore.
my moon, my whore.
of two, i see one.
neither day, nor night.
but, life and time,
lost my voice.I wrote "I love you"
in the sand at the beach.
The tide swallowed the words
and drowned them
before I could speak.
On WritingWrite for today
And like it’s all
That’ll be left of you
Never write for popularity.
Write with clarity, but
‘Don’t make everything said’.
Write a million things;
An ode to the voice
Inside your head,
An elegy for the living,
A carpe diem for the dead.
Write to tell
To just keep
They’ll find a way out.
Don’t write for approval,
That way misery lies.
Poetry can’t be judged,
Not properly –
Write for yourself;
Doesn’t matter if it’s
Good enough for
You’ll never be Shakespeare.
But he’d never
Have been you;
Pour your heart into it,
That’s the best
That you can do.
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
Loving A Guy Who Cannot Love Himself.Firstly, tell him that he doesn't necessarily need to be the “strongest” man in the world,
that if he cries, you won't look down on him for it,
that you won't call him weak.
Tell him that he doesn't have to like sports, or fishing, or football, or any of the “mainstream” things that boys are “supposed” to like.
Let him know that liking art, or dancing, or singing or acting doesn't make him gay, doesn’t make him any less of a man, it just makes him who he is.
A human being.
And for goodness sakes, tell him that blue does not have to be his favorite color, than he can indulge in pink, or purple or even magenta!
And to the girl who take on the task, remember please, that it is not always the Knight who saves the Princess.
No, this time, the Princess may need to save the Knight.
Do not pour your problems onto him, rather, balance each other out.
Be a shoulder to cry on. A friend to be there. A love that never leaves.
Perhaps more than often,
I Fell In love Inside of a DreamI fell in love,
inside of a dream.
And woke up,
with a broken heart.
But it wasn't my heart,
that was broken.
It was his,
and I'll never see him again.
That long haired, pale skin,
blue eyed boy, will forever remain,
a figment of my imagination.
So close, yet so far away.
And I will never be able to apologize,
for my mistake.
unrealistic ideologies of an
are toxic; breathing
is a chore. there is a
in the combined effort
of necessity’s unlovliest
we are the forgotten.
we are the tangled limbs
and childhood stories for
a more sensitive future; we
are the longing, we are
we are measured
in the people we touch;
and I will love you
in the UV light of
hide and seek paranoia.
I love you in the red shimmer
of harbored dreams, I love you
in the in
ShatteredIf I found you, on your knees,
trying desperately to collect the shattered pieces of your heart-
I would kneel beside you and help you pick them up.
I would not cast a blind eye,
and pretend I had not seen you.
If I saw that your hands had been cut,
by the very shards of hope you were trying so hard to gather-
I would take your hands in mine, and hold them until the pain subsided.
Then I would kiss every wound- no matter how big or how small,
until I was sure you would be able to use your hands again.
If you were crying from the fear that you'd never be able to pick up everything,
I would hold you until your tears stopped, and I would comfort you with gentle words.
But I would not lie to you- I would never lie.
The heart is a frail thing- once shattered, it can never be fully repaired.
Parts will remain missing, and the mended hope will always bear cracks.
If we found that we'd gathered all that we were able,
and that there were a fine powder remaining of what we could not collect.
On Breaking Apart Your Dreams For a GuyTwelve months ago, we swapped rumors about
the hottest bad boys; counted the number of freckles Tanya,
the Queen Bee of Beverly High, didn't cover with her polka-dot skirt;
and discovered our favorite song on a blog we both wished
we owned. "What do you think we'll be doing this time next year?"
I asked over peanut butter cookies from a bag
and a commercial break between late night movies.
You giggled, pondering, and said, "Hanging out in our dorm room.
You'll be snuggled up to the flavor of the month--
a basketball player, no doubt, or a starving artist--
and I'll be green with jealousy, like always."
When Dirty Dancing came back on, we rocked along,
shag carpet burning streaks across bare feet.
This morning, listening to my roommate sing with the radio--
some country ballad you'd never approve of--
I remember your laugh and the dark, curling fingers of hair
at the nape of yo
none the strongersome people talk in riddles,
and some don't really know how to say anything at all
i'm not one of those people
so why is it that you stop me every time
i used to think that we were what has always been
an extension of universal reason and balance
the right of the world and the dark refined
to form something too beautiful for our own eyes
we, blind as a whole, but not to each other
and now, you blind to me
deaf to me alone in your whirlwind,
the embrace of the torrent greets you so warmly
and my arms wilt in perpetual offering
cold, so very cold when you were near,
and even colder in your absence
how permanent it seems to me
how permanent it likely is
my thoughts surge ahead of me
and when i catch up, they're massive
i wage war with the rival nation of paranoia
its stretch expands and subsides
and i keep it at bay
but now, i fear that it knows my weakness
and it knows you're gone
the fortification constant, now an edifice solitary
i love alone,
i fall alone,
i die alone.
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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