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breakthroughyou taught me how to breathe
in and out, felt the air inside me
toxins, hardly air anymore
you showed me how to see through the fog
into the smog and through the mountains
thank you for blessing me
you convinced me to listen
when there was nothing to hear
but the hum of the insects and cry of the coyote
you demonstrated how to run
not in a straight line, but how a snake does
and how the wounded elk flees from the fight
you told me how feelings work
pain, love, hate, and instinct
you showed me each, one by one; mending me each time
i reached out hoping to touch you
your breath brushed my hair away
the ants crawled around my legs
they carried me off to the valley
where you could not reach me
but i could hear you whispering
"breathe in, breathe out
look up, and then down
sit down, get up
listen, and then feel
run around, and then try once more."
and then there was a helper
dear spirits, you'd sent a guide,
though you pointed out; it was not forever
which was a good thing
PanicYou're so good at
Hiding behind masks.
Oh how I wish I
Had a talent like that.
You smile so good.
And your lies are smooth,
Like the tears that flow
From the eyes you got from your mother.
So composed, they say.
So carefree, they assume.
So good at holding
Her tears inside,
Her fears inside,
Her dreams inside,
Her screams inside.
And so no one is blaming you
For the breakdowns.
Don't be sorry for
What you can't control.
A Mother's NatureI hate her.
I hate her.
I HATE HER.
Am I nothing?
Am I absolutely nothing?
Am I nothing more than a piece of shit?
A piece of fucking shit?
The tears that pour down my face,
Are like the water colours of my life.
In a world surrounded by
BLACK and WHITE.
So what would happen if I just disappeared?
Do you think she'd even notice?
Do you think she'd even care?
Do you think she'd even realize how much she's killed everything I am?
That's just her nature.
The life I live is like a wheel of pain that never stops.
The excuses I make are honestly just...
"I'm used to it."
I can't deal with this any longer...
I'm done with what you do to me.
I'm done with how you always treat me.
I'm done with never being enough for you.
I'm done with everything about you.
Oh, and mother,
Are you happy now?
Of course not.
That's just your nature.
Her CatalystAs she walks through the maelstrom, the words trace upon the tips of her fingers and press into the stone. Every brick, every crack in the concrete, every crossed and angular stroke in reds and blacks and oranges. The drips of the gasoline pool around the base of her boots, slosh as she steps over the burst pipes and the rubble.
So much rubble. So little outcry. The silence of the city grates on her eardrums and the mantras she'd been forced to memorize. The Seers demanded they observe thirteen years of recitation before they attempt to weave their first World together.
But who other than the Seers can claim the incantations that knot the skeins they twist and pull on like reins hold fast? When have any of the Sisters recorded the visions they traced upon space-time and recited them, left them open for critique and discussion and debate?
Which is why she walks through the chalky soot of the smashed city around her. This all
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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