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Just Say ItThe room was silent as Alex stared around at his plain dorm walls. It was 10 PM on a Friday night and there he was studying for German class. With a sigh the thin boy leaned back in his chair and looked down at his vocabulary list.
"Ich liebe..." he began attempting to practice his pronunciation.
Before he could really get into saying what he liked though, the door shot open. Alex's blue eyes shot up in surprise as he saw his tanned skinned roommate burst through the door with a broad smile.
Raji's black hair hung wetly down the side of his head as he exclaimed, "Alex you'll never guess what I've gotten!"
Unsure what Raji could have gotten while taking a shower before he went out for his usual night on the town, Alex brushed his hand through his blond hair and sighed, "I don’t know Raji, did some guy sneak in there and give a blow job or something?"
The tall male smirked, "I wish." Then he hurried over to Alex's desk and crossed his arms triumphantly, “No what I’ve go
It feels so delicious
The nothing resting
At my center
At my core.
Every unappetizing rumble
Reminds me how close I am
To being bright
To becoming better
Than what I use to be.
The fatigue always kicks,
Tears at my brain.
Though the bones peek beautifully
Through my pallid skin
My body cannot function
On what I don't put in.
The blackouts do scare me
When they decide to pop up
Once I was in class learning,
No food for two days.
In Algebra I guess that must equal
Running to the restroom
And collapsing into waste.
There's doctors who want to diagnose me
Who want to stick me in a pin
With little tubes of 'nourishment'
So the disgusting fat can win.
Like hell I'll let them though,
I'm fine as fine can be...
I don't need you to help me.
BeautyBeauty beauty beauty
They say beauty does not matter.
They are fucking liars.
My large nose clashes
With their scuplted norm
My broad little shoulders
Are simply out of form.
Were I a foot taller
Were I skinny and clean
Then maybe, perhaps
The world wouldn't be so
And maybe boys wouldn't run
At the sight of my
Imperfect wild hair
If beauty didn't matter
Then Seventeen Magazine wouldn't
Make me wanna care
To hide my ugly face
Or losing 5 pounds
Till I barely take up space.
They keep telling me
Those beautiful people do
"Its alright to be be ugly"
Well, I guess
Someone has to.
Headphones Tell the TruthDear Diary,
When you still hate someone,
lovethem just as much.
Though you pass them in the hallways
And pretend you don't know them,
The music blaring from your headphones
Tells the truth:
Adele, Christina Perri, Abba
Someone like You, Arms, the Winner Takes it All.
Who knew there were so many
Broken hearted songs?
Songs for girls like you who've
Let their heart win
And lost all they thought they had?
When you hate someone so much your heart hurts,
Then diary, I believe,
You may be keeping yourself from
Such lovely, other songs.
FriendshipI hope you're reading this,
But you're probably not.
Because you can't be bothered with caring
That might make you realize
What an asshole you are.
I'm not here to call names though
No, that's the last thing I'd ever want to do
At least, to you.
What I'm here for is not to grovel on my knees either
It's not to say how much I miss
Your anger, your hate, your unjustified envy.
The reason I'm here is just to promise
I'm just not perfect
It's to assure you
I cry at night when no one's looking,
I lose myself in the flow,
Sometimes I think I'm not me anymore,
But I am, I am,
I'm becomming everything I'm supposed to
No, I'll never hate you again.
No matter what,
I won't hate you.
And I won't be jelous, and I won't love,
Honestly I feel sorry for you.
Because you are so very sad,
Just like me.
Yeah, I Hate My ParentsYeah,I hate my parents.
Like every other teenager,
I wallow in angst and ask why in the world
I was born to such screw ups.
Her shiny fake smile to the world,
Her irked real face
Her complaining and whining
Her lack of any sort of parental responsilbilty.
She's a teenager just like me.
One moment we're friends
The next I wish I had someone who would stop me
Who would worry,
I don't want a friend for a mother.
His cynical view of the world
His phone calls once every year
His guilt stained Christams money
Finally remembering his sperm created a breathing creature.
He's a teenager just like me.
One moment we're friends
The next I wish I had a Daddy to spoil me
Like in one of those
Cheesy father daughter movies.
My self important feelings of loneliness
My blame that I enjoy dishing out but not gulfing down
My heart which reach outs to Mom and Dad
To stop short once it remembers every let down they ever put me through.
I'm just a teenager
One moment I
To: YouThrough my fingers slip your grasp
It happens fast
And I taste the past
Like metal, and thorns, and a three week old donut
It leaves a nasty after taste.
You never knew where you were treading
All I saw was
The direction you weren't heading.
It was far from me and closer to her
What was I to do?
It's been months now since I've heard
Since you made
Do you miss me?
I doubt it.
Did you kiss me?
I'm left here alone contemplating the difference
Between love and lust
Between hurt and humour
Sometimes I look at your number still on my cellphone and smile
Then I remember the last phone call we had,
And how much it
Thought I'd never be here again
Thought I was as strong as superman, superwoman, or whatever
But you really screwed me up, jerk.
I don't know what love is any more,
Thanks to you.
I'm scared I'll fall again
Into a deeper hole that's not even love at all.
What do I do?
What love is true?
I hate this, I hate you,
As much as I hate the fact
Don't Ask Don't TellJoining the Navy?
Now that I think about it
The one thing standing in my way
Is the chance that
They might ask
I might tell.
Yellow: Merlin-slash-ArthurLook at the stars,
Look how they shine for you,
And everything you do,
Yeah, they were all yellow
The dark haired youth looked away from the blond, refusing to acknowledge his question. He couldn't, no he wouldn't even entertain such a notion. It was not right, regardless of their intertwining destines. A prince and a servant, a man and a man, it was nothing but crazy.
"Why won't you look at me?" Arthur questioned him, rising from where he sat on his bed. The prince had been readying himself for the night when Merlin had dropped by to deliver medicine from Gaius.
Merlin hadn't expected such a question out of the blue. He hadn't mentally prepared himself for the prince to ask him it. He'd only come to drop off the medicine, not for this of all things.
Raising his eyes to the prince's, Merlin inhaled deeply, "Sorry sire. I remembered that Gaius needed my help with something so I'll just-"
"Quit your babbling, will you?" Arthur impatiently demanded as he neared the wiza
My mind deals with
Overcomes my judgement
Today it's no different
I can't take it anymore
Observing my image but
Nothing is revealed
I Saw a Burning ManIn front of my house, he sat.
Skin burnt off, now charred and black.
Hesitantly, I walked outside.
And he followed me with his watery eyes.
With steps as nimble as the snow,
I hid my fear and continued to go.
Now before him, the Burning Man.
I kindly offered him my shaky hand.
No malice nor vice leaked off of him,
rather sadness and agony which simmered below his skin.
I could feel it around me, the pain and despair,
yet, physically the man was nearly repaired.
For his scorched skin was not his problem,
instead the bottled emotions that devoured all of him.
“Would you like to come inside sir, and stay?”
In which he replied by looking away.
Again I asked, and received no reply,
and was startled when the man began to cry.
Unsure of what to do, I walked away,
Yet I’ll never forget what happened that day.
Be it from pain, or mute, or undisclosed desires,
I watched as the man was engulfed in fire.
I stood back in awe, with my mouth agape,
and feared that he had fallen into
little victories.when i was younger,
i thought i was the strongest
little girl in the world
because i could easily
beat my older brother
at arm wrestling.
it wasn't until years later
that i realized
To the person who holds my best friend's heart...I know that is is kind of weird
But I felt that I should write this down.
I need to tell you what I feel
And tell you what he means to me.
He's my best friend and he's a good man.
Please, give him the love and respect he deserves.
He may seem goofy but he's very sweet.
I know this because he was always there for me when I was sad.
Now, I know that you're not bad
Cause he would never choose someone who's mean.
But I still want to tell you just in case you forget in the future;
Please don't break his heart.
He's been through so much
And he doesn't deserve something like that.
He is the kind of person who smiles even when he's hurt by others
And would take any pain for the people he loves.
I know, I've witnessed it.
I know he may seem kind of childish sometimes
But don't let it get to you.
It's just his way of expressing himself.
He's very caring and I'm sure he'll do anything to make you happy.
He doesn't look like it but he's very kind and thoughtful.
He'll put your needs before h
in which I gain sentiencesave room
for doubt, in the silence between
religious guilt and stolen
body heat. I am made of helium.
in my dreams they
pop me and
watch me flutter. I wonder if everyone
else’s head is so congested as mine,
hyperactive with inattentive people.
you are never serious--
he stares at me in a different
set of eyes; there are words
I cannot say, there are
things I cannot tell you.
(twice a week
I watch the people I love
leave me for good.
spiders in my throat,
And There Was Lighti.
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
Can you look deeper?You see that girl you just bullied?
The one you harassed over her choice of art?
The art of a man beating a woman to death?
She saw her father kill her mother when she was five.
You know that man who likes to photograph himself in dresses?
The one you called a homo because of his choice of clothing?
Well, his parents wanted him to be a girl instead of a boy.
So they made him dress like that everyday to pretend he was a girl.
You know that woman who writes stories about child rape?
The one you bullied until she didn’t know how to cope with life anymore
Her uncle has been in jail for the past eleven years.
He raped her daily for seven years of her life.
What about that guy who favored abstract artwork?
Do you remember him he liked to use the colors red and black a lot.
He was nearly beaten to death when he was fourteen.
He only knows nightmares because he remembers seeing his blood on the wall.
What about me? Do you remember me? Even just a teensy little bit?
You bullied me because
Blue Eyes in FlamesWhen the prince sees the flower bloom from the palm of her hand, he orders her arrest.
She is only seven years old.
He takes the flower from her and keeps it, even though he knows he shouldn't. He puts it a vase, or, rather, his servant does that for him. The flower doesn't ever die, even years later.
It's dawn of a December morning, and he's cold. But still, he stands next to his father dutifully and looks at the little girl with blue eyes that are now black from seven nights sleeping on a cold, dungeon floor behind bars. They cut off her dark brown hair during that time. She's tied to the pyre, and there are seven guards around her, holding sharper swords than normal, not that she could get away. There's one man dressed in black holding an unlit torch, with a mask over his face to prevent his death. His father raises his arm, and the torch is lit.
She locks her gaze to his, and he blinks at her. It's like she expects him to prevent it. He couldn't, though, he can't. She scares him, w
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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