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A LetterIt's crazy how much a letter can change your life.
When I was really young it was a way to stay in contact with my best friend. We would write colorful letters to each other about our lives and reminders of our friendship and love.
I miss those letters.
When I was a teenager letters were a way for me to forget. To write angry letters that would never be sent to my mom about her drinking, her attitude, and her absence.
There was one letter that was written in the form of a story...one which my dad found...and outed me to my family.
Now, I'm a little bit older, a tad bit wiser, and the letters keep coming.
Not that I write, but one's that are written between two people I care about very much who are at war, my mom and dad.
Today I found out about a letter.
One that my dad sent to my mom.
It didn't talk of love, or anguish, but rather an informative yet hanus message about one of their post-divorce agreements.
The worst part of the letter, is that the words that were written were not his,
InsomniaIts slowly killing me.
Never thought I would be an insomniac.
Shut up, Shut up.
Fuck, I'm talking to myself again.
Why can't you just shut up and go to sleep?
Think about something.
Black dress, White dress, beautiful and an hour has passed by.
Why the hell haven't I fallen asleep?
Okay, think of white. Only white.
And, all thoughts are gone.
Fuck, I'm still talking to myself.
Shut up, Shut up!
When did I get here, to this terrible place.
I never thought I'd be an insomniac.
WordsMy speech is one of my greatest victories,
And one of my greatest faults.
In a moment the wrong words may escape,
Turning your life upside down.
Once it is whispered into the world,
It is forever held in the arms of others.
In their power, to do with what they may.
The most dangerous and vital tool in the world is speech.
How does one live without knowing its power, its importance.
Anguish, Beauty, Life, all in symbols, meanings,
My speech is one of my greatest victories,
And one of my greatest faults.
The Ordinary LesbianSix years ago I began looking for information regarding my sexuality. I found books about love, struggles, and fame (namely, Ellen DeGeneres), but I was never able to find a how-to lesbian book for Dummies. The question continued to enter my mind, "What makes a good lesbian?" Six years later, I found the answer. There are several different parts that make-up the perfect lesbian; fashion, relationships, PDA, and pride. According to dictionary.com a lesbian is defined as, "of, pertaining to, or characteristic of female homosexuality." Although this is true, it doesn't contain the important pieces of the puzzle, those that make up a good lesbian.
One of the most important parts of being a lesbian is making sure that one blends in with the crowd. It is easy to spot a good lesbian, say, in a gay bar, but it is more difficult to spot a good lesbian in everyday life. For example, if one is riding on a bus and playing the ever popular "spot the gays" game, a bad lesbian would be eas
Drowning, Without my UmbrellaI lose my mom.
And then my dad.
My family falls apart.
My best friend, my love, is gone.
I'm drowning in a sea of rain
Driven to dangerous measures
I'm drowning and I cannot see
The road containing leisure.
No one's here to wipe my tears
Hold my hand and say
Laura, everything's alright
It's going to be okay.
I miss the times when mom was here
To teach me how to stand
I miss the times when dad was there
To make me strong and wise
I miss the ways she talked to me
And how she made me feel
I miss myself
I miss my life
I miss who I used to be
Because that person now is gone
They turned around and fled.
I cannot see her coming back, at least for a long time.
She left long ago, without a soul
Even without a mind.
My Heart on My SleeveYour beauty and strength resonates
I wear my heart on my sleeve
You seem impenetrable, constant.
I talk too much.
You keep secrets, unable to open up to me
I tell you every minor detail, want to share my life with you
You try so hard, yet fall below
I try so hard and fall down low
When will you look me in the eye and tell me everything?
When will I stop pouring my heart out to you.
Impossible, I cannot. You are my everything.
The most beautiful, amazing, smart, endearing, lovely love, my baby.
I just simply wish that you could find the strength to share with me.
Every thought, every moment, your soul, for me to see.
HeavyThe weight on my chest makes it harder to breathe
I feel like I'm swimming in a drowning sea
Crying becomes a continuous habit
From inside, beneath, endless amounts of tragic.
When one part gets better, another gets worse
It's as if god wants my life to go in reverse
I'm slipping; I'm falling, with nothing around
I wish I had someone to take on a pound.
Pulsing through my veins
Running down my arm
Pressure in my hand, numbness.
Heart beating quickly
Twenty minutes later the ritual resumes
And only to find my hand becoming tenser, number, harder.
I look around with nothing to be found
I sit alone in fear
Do I hear footsteps or the pipes in the distance?
I know not what to be afraid of
But I cannot hide the fear.
Six Second Poem"We're all the same," she said. "Friend, tell me," she asked, "how are we different?"
For six seconds I paused, then I said:
Some of us ..
love more than we hate,
laugh more than we cry,
work harder than we play, but
live before we die.
Some of us don't.
And that, my friend, is how we are all different.
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
I willI will love you
all the way to the place where ladybirds go to die,
to the lushest corners of the earth
that hold the secrets no man was meant to see
and we will find them, and know them together.
I will love you
all the way to the place where bubbles are made
at the bottom of a glass of cider
that blisters the glass with condensation
as we trade hats and laugh at the way the air smiles.
I will love you
all the way inside a branch where buds dream of Becoming,
where those one-day-flowers stir wooden hearts
into an uprising, into a blossoming life
and we will plant our ambitions there, in the blooming place.
I will love you
all the way to the square brackets that hold our boxes
because you are my best friends, and you will be
as we fold papery hands around paper-cut wrists and cry
and mourn eighty-odd years flown by too fast. Even then.
Even then, I will love you still.
I've ForgottenWhen she died
I tied a knot in my stomach
so I would remember
but I've been so busy
trying to remember her dying
I forgot how to forget.
how to let go -
and the doctors said
they would cut me open
and snip her out
a blade between the bows
and the pain, would be gone
but I've forgotten
how to let go -
and I still don't want to.
love didn't matter, but home was with youi.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebushes that
were too stained to be called
me that sometimes
love doesn't matter, and
i (did)n't want to
you asked me once if anything
mattered, a lighter
gracing one hand and a
cigarette lining your
lips. i wasn't
sure back then
and i don't know
if i am now
(but i think i want to say yes).
my body never felt
unarticulatedtonight I ask myself:
where are you going with all these names
in your pockets? syllables that taste
unauthentic in the desperate American
repression is a series of images
earthbound angels breathing
flame, starving hands speaking
in tongues, glazed eyes
asking are you fucking okay
pale skin becoming moonlight,
reflecting and refracting and
the quiet understatement
The Elephant ManHe had elephant hands; swollen and tendered
by old age and wiping away childrens' crying
so they were leathered and carefully painted
with a veneer of the dust made by old books,
but when he read to me the pages didn't shake
and his throat didn't contract about the words
like they were enemies to be spat out, bloodied.
Lungs didn't shiver and eyes didn't milk, then.
Now, I see love ephemeral. I see love half-dead
and carving its riverbed path, slowly eroding;
until it can rejoin oceans once known in heaven.
Now, I see him ephemeral. I see him half-living.
I see the fear of burdenship as the only thing
that makes his eyes flicker how Pernod used to.
I see a beautiful, crumpled drawing of my hero
as my grandfather slips, wearily, back to sleep.
Diamond TearIn silence
I observe them
Laughing and having fun
While I'm in my corner
I feel out of place
I don't belong here
So I leave
And no one notices
Now I'm out on the street
A dark and silent one
Enjoying the breeze
Lost in my thoughts
Suddenly I hear a sob
And I look around
I see a girl
Sitting on a bench
A single diamond tear
Running down her face
I don't know her
No one else is around
I could just leave
But I can't
So I sit by her side and ask
Without looking her in the eyes
For a moment
And then she takes my hand
And we look
Into each other's eyes
And she whispers
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
The Isolation ChamberWithin the isolation chamber
Lonely is my fight
Dark and scared I sit beneath
The piercing, harsh bright light.
Without the truth I speak all lies
Within my truth I stay
Isolated, perpetrated, forced to obey.
Why not just take us all away
All the gays, all the strays
Everyone who lives their way.
Outside the isolation chamber
Sleeps the birds and bees
Willow trees and perfect tales
The normal, one's who please.
Anyone who can withstand
The straight and guided wind
Those who take the fears of life
And remove them from within.
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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