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SmilesSometimes my life wont be what it seems.
Masked behind stories and broken old dreams.
Ignorance is only bliss to those who dont know
Leaving me to bleed and suffer in this woe.
Engaged in this play that we all assume.
Safe in a fantasy till we are consumed.
Alone. She is alone
always has been,
& always would be
If not for the words.
They whisper to her
in the darkness
And tickle the hair
of her neck
& footprints in her heart.
They tell her to run,
& like the pages of a book,
she is closed.
But written on pages
& in books
and stories will find a way to be told.
So she writes,
about ink stains,
& the colors on the water
that fall from her eyes.
Small ThingsI cling to small things:
The deep color of your eyes;
The poetic rhythm of your hips;
The beautiful lines of your face
I cling to small things:
The emphasis with which you say some words;
The softness of your gestures;
The stars that escape from your smile
I cling to small things:
I'm a castaway in the life
and do not want to drown in this icy ocean,
Then I cling to small things,
and swim desperately
I swim trying to reach the island of your heart
Dream treeUncolored tree
at the end of my notebook
waiting for me in some place far
my escape from reality in lonely hours
surrounded by people
but in an empty room
an infinite prairie
just you and me
the endless sky
and the dancing clouds
you full of color now
and me too
wish to rest my head in your feet
but never sleep again.
Pale ShadowsPale shadows cruise through silent crowds,
Screaming sorrow with sirens blaring out loud,
Passing through all our veins like crimson clouds.
Is this a plague of my own perception,
Or am I damned to die in vile deception?
Pale shadows drive past vacant smiles,
Ignoring innocence with eyes staring all around,
Piercing through all our nerves like platinum pyres.
Is this a virus killing my own virtue,
As I torment time that is no longer true?
Pale shadows soar above lucid minds,
Gazing gullibility with grins drowning without bound,
Pacing through all our cells like white winds.
Is this a sickness purging my own sanity,
Or am I confused by conscience in dire calamity?
Alice With A TwistI stumbled
through the door
I made my way
fields of debris,
of buildings that
were left behind
for a change,
I've slipped through
I have become
Alice, with a twist
and I can't seem
to find my missing
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