|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
A Happy Poem?It's weird.
Weird that I found myself alone of my own choosing,
but hated every second of it,
because I knew it meant leaving you.
Weird that this dull pain in the back of my heart lingered for so long,
and that it was a longing for you,
who I deserted.
Weird that now,
When I come to you with my tail between my legs,
and those sad eyes and those lines we've all heard before,
you've forgiven me.
And my heart leaped out of my chest,
And caught in my throat.
A second chance?
A shot to prove myself?
What a relief.
Bad tasteEverywhere I go has a bad taste to it now.
I try to drink from the waters of creativity,
but am met by bitterness and the salt of freshly shed tears.
Everything I eat tastes of ash.
I try to think of things that make me happy,
and I see you everywhere.
I've left a bad taste there for the two of us.
And it hurts,
but I can force myself through it.
I feel wrong making you go through it, too, though.
I wish...I wish that I could say I'm sorry,
but I know that it will only make you hurt more.
I wish I could give you back the piece of your heart
that you were kind enough to give to me,
but I was cold enough to toss aside.
I wish that I could make things better
for the both of us.
Because even as we've gone our separate ways,
I still hurt when I see you like this.
I wish that I could do more than give you time,
but time will have to be all.
I wish I could keep from messing up,
but I can only help by keeping my hands away.
Most Interesting ManI don't always think about you anymore,
but when I do, it still stings.
I don't always lie around and moan about how awful life is,
and how my life doesn't have any meaning,
but when I do,
I make sure that I'm not publicly humiliating anyone.
I may not be the most interesting man on earth,
but I wish I'd be able to get your attention long enough to be recognized.
I may not be unhappy with where I am,
but I sure as hell can bitch about a lot.
Feedback and Activity Messages are AwesomeFeedback and Activity messages are awesome.
Why don't I get any.
It makes me sad.
I don't post any deviations...
Moment of TruthIt's the moment of truth,
Where I come to terms with myself.
Have I been lying to myself all this time?
Or have I actually gotten better?
It's the moment of truth,
Where the last stitch will finally be made,
or where everything I've worked for will be torn up again.
It's the moment of truth,
Where I can learn to be a person again,
And we can learn to be people together.
It's the moment of truth,
Where we meet as entities other than each others' lovers.
And I'm scared.
But I'm ready for this.
It's the moment of truth,
Let's make the most of it.
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
the only letter I've ever wanted to burni.
if you want to give someone the silent treatment,
the first step is shutting up.
things made much more sense
when I was younger.
I thought there was one path,
each choice a stepping stone upon it.
in reality there are a million roads
intertwined like rope.
I got lost
I chose you.
promises are easily broken.
I knew that,
but it still hurt
spending friday night
shivering in the rain,
choking on cannabis perfume
in a dirt parking lot
your face never graced.
and I hoped against hope
you might appear,
but I wasted my wishing
on ungrateful you.
you died before taking your first breath.
I took a chance
and I should've known better.
you can give somebody all you have
and nothing can stop them from
throwing it away.
you've made this bed,
now lie in it.
you slit this suture,
you're the goddamn reason
I gave up on the month of april,
and soon enough you'll fall on your own blade
like some drunken samurai.
if you want
Die AloneI take apart her heart
And lay the pieces down
In a circular form.
Let her bleed a work of art.
I forgot I’m crazy.
I’ll whisper my secrets
Only if she promises
To die here alone with me.
.What do you want to be when you grow up?
They ask it like a dare.
As if letting your unlikely dreams
slip from the safety of your mind
could bring their own
a little closer to reality.
car crash on an empty roadit happened before
we did. it was more a person
than you or I or that boy
in the park trying
to convince us to
stupid. it happened
before your smile
cracked the sky in half, before
our laughters slurred into
a dissonant song, before
your fingers traced the stories
lying on my face before I knew
just how many pieces of sunshine
were trapped in your hair before
the walls became the ceiling and
I wasn’t claustrophobic.
things I remember:
the red blur of your room like
God was experimenting with the
symbolism in modern art, the
tri-tone shimmering of your eyes
like the surface of the water, the way
you defined perfection as a scale of
women ending with a less than sensible
me, the way you always moved like
you were dancing and no one was there to
RelativityLooking in the mirror
through the mirror
seeing a stranger,
My chest swells and my heart lurches
This girl isn't me, not at all
She looks like someone
but not me.
A movie star, a homeless person.
Even when I look at photos
no memory comes up
no allowing for the thought that I have a body
Or that the cold of my fingertips,
the throb of anxiety inside my ribs
I see my arm, an armband
A scar, a vein, a ring that has no meaning
But it did, to this girl in the mirror
Even if memory fails
Existence is relative
Dizzy Girl,you can't cure sorrow. The drops
on the windshield are swallowed
by this traffic's color and you
are just the driver.
Other people pass
with paint blearing,
though I do wish
there was an ending,
questions spark in halos
of low street lamps as you veer
toward the center,
recollections are ceaseless.
She will be at your left and the gust
through the tinted window
will be humid,
you taste her last spirit
in the smoke and
See Through YouHow do you allow for your own eyes to see through you?
Reflections hold no meaning,
when the image cascading back, is just your own ghost.
What unworldly realm did you get lost in?
I remember the touch of white glass, pale skin on your brow.
It shattered so easily, with such a soft touch,
if only the touch you felt, was only the love.
But sheets of burning skin, you have now.
This avalanche of you came crashing down quickly.
It was your emotion not your voice;
that started the cosmos to implode inside you.
Each star died out, and they all winked before they died.
It was this bi-polar you, who had split into two.
Through mitosis you defined your real you.
If only the other half could have been saved,
or maybe it’s lost and stored away?
I want to allow you, to see the person you are to be.
But,no mirror I show you could ever speak true to your own face.
Perhaps one day, your true self will stay.
But for now,
you allow your own eyes to see through you.
Sticks And Stones
Sticks and stones,
and broken bones,
but only words have hurt me.
In a matter of time,
You'll draw the line,
But I'll never be free.
With my heart on my sleeve,
I'm left to believe,
That eventually blood runs dry,
The clock is ticking,
The plot thickening.
I seriously just want to cry.
And stick and stones,
When I've only hurt my heart.
I'll say I'm wrong,
Sing a sad song,
And I'll begin again from the start.
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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