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SympathyThere was a man yesterday at my window
Asking me why his wife had left him.
Opened the window,
Put my hands on his face,
And snapped his neck
“If you had only told her how much you loved her,
She could have given you all you wanted and more”
Me and You, Yesterday You asked me about my life yesterday, and at the time I wasn't really able to respond truthfully. Well, here you go: the complete and total truth (because I literally have nothing better to do).
Two days ago I enlisted myself in a 10 day insomnia research project to see if it would somehow help me wake me up to the reality of the world (ha, ha, see what I did there?). I don't know why; I don't even suffer from insomnia. Really, my enlistment in the program is like a giant dick up the ass of the research facility. They have to deal with assholes like me all the time. I guess I really don't care anymore- when they find out I don't qualify I'll probably be too far into the study for them to take any legal action. Even if I don't finish the study I still get a stipend. That's a consolation, I guess.
The thing that keeps me up at night isn't really insomnia, it's my over analytical thought process. I have an obsession with the human condition- with eyes especially
LinearLife seems to move in a
Linear direction in
From brights to black.
It turns greyer every day
Like your hair will do;
Like your sight will do
Where are we now?
Can we point on a palate?
On a page?
When we run our fingers through
The braile-stained book of life
We flip the switch, close the door, and
Try to sleep through the darkness.
I think that our days are
Darkened by insight
And pictures of long dead insects
I think that we believe
Our perfect wings to be broken.
Are we as old now at this moment
As we will ever be,
Or is everything happening…
I Know BetterShe whispers to me with her eyes when she thinks I'm not looking;
I'd say she hates me,
Steeping TeaThere is a place not too far from your
Mind’s eye where an alligator sits down
To enjoy the scenery. However, as he
Sits, the world begins to melt.
First go the trees, melting like little
Wax soldiers left out in the sun. The
Alligator doesn’t really mind. He is paying
Too much attention to the mouth forming
In the centre of a purple marsh.
As he watches, the mouth begins to swallow
The colour from the world. And it is
Painful, too. A million colours are gone now
As if they never existed, as if they were
Sucked from the flesh of imagination.
Finally the mouth opens to tell the alligator
Good morning, but the alligator is gone,
And the colourless sun has begun its descent.
Sleep DownWake up,
We can make breakfast in bed and
Weave together our calloused fingers
We can share our afternoons
Pretending like the world is made of diamonds
We can stay up late and
Laugh at those old nightime TV shows
Mr DeathMr. Death has got me by my teeth
WHY DON'T YOU RUN
WHY STOP NOW?
Do not dare to move a muscle.
Genesis, Remastered“People are awfully two-dimensional these days,” said Eve, lounging on the couch. Her husband, perched next to her, grunted. He was absorbed in his iPad. “Adam?”
“You’re so passive.”
Eve sighed, regarding her husband’s skeletal form. “I’ll take the rubbish out.” She rose, leaving a large indent. The kitchen was a foul assortment of littered table tops and half-eaten take-aways, neglected by Adam and devoured by Eve. Hoisting the rubbish bag – full to bursting – over her shoulder, Eve trundled into the front garden and dumped it on the side of the street to fester.
Hands on her hips, she was about to turn away when a black cat hurtled across her path and dug sharp claws into the rubbish bag. It pulled its paws apart and week-old food spilled across the pavement. Eve sprang back and, losing her balance, and fell to the ground. The moon smiled down at her and she blinked, not botherin
WatchingHe had seen many things.
He had seen people work for days on end to create mighty monuments to the gods. Seen people taken from there homes in the night to be worked like slaves by there new masters.
He had seen men use their knowledge to create places of learning. Watching as these learned men discover knew things for the first time. Watched as they learned to sail, to mine, to grow.
And grow they did. Starting as a few mud huts he watched as they grew into bustling metropolis. Watched as they discovered the worth of gold, and as they trek across lands to gain new riches. He watched as they worshipped men and women, as they built temples and spread their religion around the world.
He was there as a few people left to find a new home. And as the new settlement grew he watched the people become rich, and watched as they built roads to help share the wealth.
He was there as they became more advanced, discovering how to write, how to harness natures power, how to create steam.
He was watc
A Deluded Confession Many years ago, in the spring of 1847, I first gained the acquaintance of Mikhail Ivanovich Bazikov. He was the first man that I met upon arriving in Nizhny Novgorod - he lived in the same neighborhood, and he immediately struck me as the exuberant, exciting character who he remained throughout our time together. The two of us forged a close friendship in the weeks and months that followed. In him, I found sparkling wit and humor that I could only envy; in me, he apparently saw something that was absent from anyone in his previous association, something which I could not detect.
In the winter of that year, Mikhail Ivanovich became a deeply religious man. Two of his three children had fallen seriously ill and he turned to the church for sustenance and support. His donations to the monastery became lavish, his prayers incessant, his devotion unyielding. He often said that it was by the sheer grace of Christ and the blessings of Father Mikhail that he had
Tabby grew in a place that nobody ever seemed to noticed. She made her home under the shimmering summer sky, protected by arching branches above her and cold dirt underneath her feet. The warped aspens waved merrily down as she gazed and gazed up into those woeful heavens. She made pictures with the clouds, wars with the gnats, and friends with herself.
Nobody ever noticed that place Tabby called home, nestled snugly in a little corner folded off into the world. Only Tabby saw the sun sing itself to sleep and the moon drift home after fishing in a starry sea. She was never lonesome, with the rustling of the wind she gained the only company she'd ever need.
She grew into a fine little miss that Tabby, all by herself with not another soul in sight. One day, when her nose was tickled by the bees and the lady bugs played in her hair, she got scared. It couldn't have been the bugs, or the breeze, or the sweet taste of rain that fr
The Overwhelming Feeling that Changed My LifeIMPORTANT AN: Alright before you start reading I want to tell you that there is a specific question I want to ask you about the story!! But only after you have read the story can I tell you what the question is or else your answer will be influenced! Please proceed to read because I am very curious to know your answer!!!
Have you ever witnessed someone stand without flinching in the face of death? If you did, would you watch from afar like a spectator and think about how weak you are compared to them? I did. Except for some inexplicable reason, at the last second, I acted on a feeling I can’t describe. And I sacrificed myself to save that one strong soul which deserved to live. Maybe I did it because the scene unfolding before me made me realise my monotonous life had no meaning. I live such a boring routine; go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat. Or maybe it was my simple desire to save the small innocent kitten who was staring strongly at the oncoming car. Either way, t
I Present A StoryI present to you a story.
There is a girl – young, maybe fifteen. She wakes up on a perfectly ordinary morning feeling quietly contented. At peace. There are many things ahead in the future, but those are all problems to be confronted some other time. One day, she will get to them.
There is school – not pleasant, but bearable. She gets off the bus and heads for form class, exchanging pleasant banter with her classmates. She laughs a little bit and sits with her friends.
I present to you a boy.
He is smart – good grades, but not unusually so. She watches him often, enjoying his mannerisms and the casual way he confronts life. Sometimes, when she pays attention, there seems to something weighing on him. She intends to find out what. One day, maybe, she will kiss him.
The girl maneuvers her way through the hallways of the school. She is a decent student, and a pleasant person to be around. “A joy to teach,” some of her Primary School teachers said.
Fluent in SilenceMy blood is boiling. I am up in arms. I am foaming at the mouth. I am going ballistic. I guess that’s how I feel. I never understood either of those sayings, but I do feel angry as fuck.
We sat in deafening silence. I felt like I had to keep my mouth shut. If I opened it up, I’d say something mean, something insulting that would spark a conflict I would inevitably lose in the end. I don’t know why he kept so silent. Perhaps out of solidarity, perhaps that was his way of daring me.
When my mind finally snapped out of the state of nothingness I had drifted to, I felt his eyes on me and heard a distant mumbling.
‘Do you think we’re normal?’ he repeated.
‘Do you think we could be?’
Silence prevailed. My mind kept drifting into meaningless little details that not only had nothing to do with this particular moment, but were futile in general. I kept thinking about dancing gummy bears
EarthLong ago, a child was given a gift of precious wonder. Covered in soft greens and luxurious blues, the gift shone brightly under the light of the golden Sun and silver Moon. Day in and day out, the child nurtured this gift and decorated it with magnificent stones of a thousand stars, and created rain to feed the green when he was gone.
He covered it in colours and molded valleys and rock empires. He created small creatures to give it life, and smiled when he saw that they had multiplied. He continued to nurture his gift as the years went on, changing things here and there, adding new creations, and filled it with a fire to keep it warm.
Every day he continued to work on something new; something to make his gift even more special. The hardworking boy, now turned into a man, decided to create factions to give his gift a unique look. He constructed a land of pure white holding the coolness of winter, but his idea stretched too far and his gift was doomed to be frozen in time.
L'Essere SuperioreLe ricerche proseguivano ormai da tempo estenuante. Tutti i fondi erano stati spesi, tutti gli sforzi erano stati compiuti e i limiti della scienza erano stati raggiunti, ma l’essere superiore non era ancora stato trovato. L’essere superiore è la forma di vita che può essere posta ad un livello superiore all’essere umano, così come l’essere umano giace ad un livello superiore rispetto agli animali secondo i canoni degli umani. L’essere superiore è una forma di vita indifferente ed inarrivabile, che si rivolge alle altre creature come i propri figli, che non risponde alle loro provocazioni per non abbassarsi al loro livello. E’ una forma di vita più matura, un essere vivente che è superiore non perché abbia qualcosa in più, ma perché fa il superiore nelle interazioni con gli umani. Nella struttura gerarchica a livelli che era stata studiata dai progettisti le creature intelligenti, come gl
The Air I opened my front door and lifted my eyelids. The morning air was cold enough to materialize my breath, but my face felt warm enough that the air was refreshing rather than chilling. I stepped into the doorway expecting something extraordinary, only to feel the familiar crunch of gravel under my shoes like tiny bones breaking under the weight of my conscious body. The morning was familiar with me already, though we had never met. She wrapped her body of fog around mine as I stepped out of my doorway and swept her icy fingers through my hair as I drifted down the pathway of gravel-bones. The day was my pet, she was my other half, we were one, and against such a non-concrete being I felt naked.
"Together," The morning seemed to whisper into my ears, "together, together, together."
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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