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Silence in the midst of screamsTime was running out. He could feel it, screaming, clawing..edging at every fiber of his being. The demon's mentality, his one remaining shard of who he had been lay within his cracked mind. Watching with a dread as everything lined, as his existence would slowly be diminished. If not the next soul devoured, it would be the starvation, that ended him. Any more pressure upon his already shattered mind, would have the shard be no more, a spiraling insanity would only remain. As it were on the surface...anxious, paranoid..fearful of everyone, and thing. Obsessive to the point of compulsion and actions driven by colors and nothing but the remnants of himself. He could only silently guide and hold the hope that his body would comply through his mind's disarray. Yet, as the time passed...he would find no solution to the issue at hand. How, could he survive without consuming the souls of contracted humans? It'd been unheard of by the demon thus far for such a thing to be. His search had been
9 years and 10 monthsConfusion, yelling and fear. Small arms reaching in desperation, a swift and loud CRACK, followed by the thump of a small body hitting the floor. Silence, as the storm slowed and ended, the small form being looked upon in contempt before the assailant would drop the heavy bottle and saunter off, leaving the small boy alone on the floor. As his consciousness left him, and the blood flowed freely from the wound upon his head. Coating and soaking through the already bright red hair darkening it and sinking into the carpet upon which he lay..confusion would riddle the boy's mind..why had this happened..? His consciousness would only return fleetingly as his father would return from work, his worried voice yelling, calling to him..he felt himself cradled up into the man's arms as the older Octillery attempted to get what had happened from the younger boy. The boy's eyes..fogged over and riddled with confusion would only stare back blankly. What happened...a slow blink. His mother had beaten
How he won his homeWhispers were carried on the wind that night...whispers of the king and his tree. "The king is getting old..the king may die soon." "Who will get his home when he's gone?" the many voices of the forest's inhabitants asked one another quietly, careful not to disturb the old Nidoking in his place. "That tree is the best in the forest...it has many places to hide, many places to live." the voices would continue on, very well aware of the one listening in the shadows beyond the bushes, but paying no mind to the worthless scrap. HE certainly wouldn't be a threat to their plotting or planning, the runt couldn't fight and didn't have the bravery to go against king. They, on the other hand...or anyone else here could contend this treasure. "Should we challenge him now, while he is weaker in age? Or wait until he simply dies of his own?" they would question, each inhabitant in this place wanting that tree as their own, each determined to obtain it.
Listening intently from where he hid, the youn
Go ahead and hate me.Go ahead!
Without me ever having done anything but live and breathe.
Glare at me, look at me like I'm trash.
Maybe I'll disappear one day
I'm a nasty little kid, a bastard teenager, and a worthless man.
But know, you're what made me who I am.
I didn't know as a kid. I cried and hated it. As a teenager, I was lonely and desperate to feel loved. Now as a man, I am cold and cynical.
All that makes me happy in the world is this twisted idea of mine.
You hate me, but you can't ignore me. I'm always here, you'll always look at me. Even if you hurt me, as every single pair of eyes that lands on me ultimately wants...I will welcome it. Because then...someone is paying attention to me.
I'll insult you, I'll hurt your pride, scoff at you, goad, push, and pick at you.
But...It's only because..
I want to feel like someone cares.
And this...hate and pain, is all I know.
One by one, we wait to dieA single scream cuts the silence,
then turns to many
all we were was compliant,
We didn't cause this,
but we suffer the most
we all miss...
what did we do?
for our hosts' squabble
We know that we won't move away,
In our hearts...we feel
And each day, another of us dies
You have no heart
for our fight
It's not right.
Ten lines on poetryIt's not all the time the words,
come running in herds
I need time,
to formulate my rhymes
It's creative sure,
but sometimes just a blur
when you catch it before the run
But if you miss it,
it doesn't get writ.
DisillusionedIt's just not the same,
our little game...
it used to be so grand,
now it's just bland
I sit and sigh,
we were once up so high,
how did it end up this way?
All of that excitement,
wonder where it went..
another day gone again,
makes me wonder when
The next thing will come around,
and move me out of this rut
I know it's bound to happen,
what...is truly ugly?How does one describe this loathing?
at a steady rate
Such a disgusting creature
undeserving of this feature
You walk like an ape
your clothes are too baggy
don't just gape
you know it's the truth.
you are ugly, inside and out
you-I am not.
So you can stop that thought.
I do not hate you,
though you despise me
you don't see through,
this image of me...
I am not ugly,
I walk as an ape,
when I tire.
my clothing is casual,
and the reason I gape?
I cannot believe,
someone as lovely as you...
could ever sink,
as low as you do.
To sink to calling another ugly,
to try to wound their confidence...
that, I find...
to be truly ugly.
Longing for equalityOnward a man travels,
carrying his hopes and dreams
holding in his screams,
as it all unravels
His unending hope,
fuels him through his days
though how can he cope,
with such dismays
All who hear his words,
snicker and laugh
but they are as free as birds,
higher than such lowly riff-raff
He longs for the day,
when such differences can be left behind
seeking to light the way,
but alas..the shackles do grind
As he is led to his doom,
he ponders his life
was it worth all of the gloom,
A single child catches his eye,
their eyes as red as his own
they too wish to fly,
not to be cast down
Their eyes meet,
and he sees himself once more
young and sweet,
to the core
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
1:33 amto the angry young
hungry ocean eyes:
i do not wish to know
what crawled inside
your ribs to
i just wish you would
let it leave.
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
Tick, tock...goes the clockTick, tock...
goes the clock
goes the clock
goes the clock
I can't escape
goes the clock
a never ending symphony
why can't it ever leave me be?
goes the clock
in the back of my mind,
even if my ears cannot hear it
goes the clock
there is no place here,
that the ticking does not haunt me
The agonizing stress,
it makes me a mess,
when will quiet be found?
Not even away...
it's always at play
try to break them away,
remove the battery..
but there are too many, the ticks and tocks won't sway
the stress they cause is too much to carry
and so...the panic arises
a mess left to be messier,
but still...the faint..
of the clock.
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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