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The Conventional Aftermath "Honey, I'm not doing that show,"
A perfected crease on Gerard's brows appears again as he scribbles untidily at the remaining space of the sketch filled notebook he had kept since they did the World Contamination Tour.
"Just pretend, pretend, pretend. You'll never know "
He runs a hand through his hair, groping at the short brown ends as if to pull out the next words.
"They're not here to tell"
"They're not here to tell," he softly repeats to himself, "They're not here to tell "
The tapping sound of the pen against the paper echoes softly in the cramped studio.
He stops, looks up then frowns.
"Goddamnit, Frank," he throws the pen to his friend, "Leave me alone."
The Standard Lives of the Haphazard Killjoys The skies above their heads give the impression to imitate the dry, dying static of the radio channel they are listening to. As to why they are tuned in to a dead channel, nobody wants to know. The dull drone of the radio creates a blanket of vacant thoughts, covering the unusual group of multicolored figures contrasting the endless sand dunes.
The hot thin winds whistle guttural notes, mixing in with the dead noise of the radio.
No one seems to care or rather, dares acknowledge the beating of sand particles against their exposed skins. Instead, the nine killjoys continue to explore the dunes in hopes of having a chance to rest their disheveled bodies unto the make-shift beds in one of the refuge den buried in the desert.
"There's no more time for daydreaming," Skyline Sunrise breaks the unnerving silence of the desert place.
All eyes turn to him in unison as if slapp
half-priced whoremaybe in fifty years,
she will stop feeling his finger-shaped bruises
on her hips and arms.
stop hearing his words—you think you can stop me, little girl?—
in every passing "are you okay?".
stop feeling the wind like a ghost of his acid breath
on the back of her neck
beautiful, beautiful, beautiful little girl.
maybe fifty thousand dove soap bars later
and too many scalding showers
and dusty baby blankets and days spent lying in bed,
looking up at the water stained ceiling,
will be enough to leave the man
on the corner of anderson street and rosa parks avenue
right where she never wanted to find him.
just ask her, she knows first hand
that worlds don't end in bangs but
she knows what it's like to die with a fist
over your mouth and fear in your nostrils.
pretend she is made out of ashes and paper thin words—mourn
the loss of her innocence, her freedom, her control.
cast her out into the ocean to dissolve among the waves,
find her a god dirty enough
WhyWhy do you hate me?
Is it because I'm difficult?
Or because I'm not smart?
Maybe my lack of heart?
Why am I not good enough?
Is it because I'm not perfect?
Or because I can't cook?
Maybe I just don't have the look?
It could mean anything, really.
Why me? Why you? Why this? Why that?
So overused, but I still must ask.
Tell me AgainWhen all hope is gone,
Look into the mirror,
I dare you to lecture me again,
About the daily horror,
When you're broken,
Crawl back to me,
And complain about life,
You forbid me to do,
That isn't really you,
Change and tell me,
I didn't do the right thing,
When I went far away,
And lived my life,
See life through my eyes,
Tell me you don't see lies,
Listen to my story,
Take my right to be distressed,
Your life's been just as bad as mine,
Doesn't mean you're the only one,
Or that your view's the only right,
I just see contradictions everywhere,
And their trace leads back to you,
Hypocrite, I guess I'd call you,
If I wouldn't be as nice,
But don't mistake it as shyness,
I'm just careful because I know,
You can't take very much,
Behind your label of strength,
Hides a tired, broken soul.
Hold my hand.
Let me cry in your arms.
Talk about love and the future.
Tease me to cheer me up.
Read over my shoulder the poem I'm writing.
Speak to me.
You'll learn to hate me...
You'll learn to ignore me...
All of those things.
Save me from myself.
I'd ask you to do it.
You're not real. You're caught in my mind.
A character. A fake identity of a person I want to want me.
Thats why don't.
Because reality breaks me when you leave.
suicide (revised)She’s trying to breath
Gasping for air
A bloody hand print grabs a wall
A sign that someone’s in there
She kept it all secret
It became too much for her
No one had a clue
Her breath is short
Her death is near
The clock has stopped
She has nothing to fear
Someone was in there
Behind those walls
Someone was dying
Taking it all
You cry for her now
She’s already gone
She finally gave up
She suffered to long
She’s had this pain now
For so many years
It’s too late to care now
So dry up your tears
ComplimentsThese compliments i receive
Mess me up inside
They confuse what i believe
The negativity cant hide
No i'm not
Have you seen me?
I'm fed up of getting these things said to me
I'm used to the negativity
Its almost like i miss it
its so messed up
I don't understand
I make progress
Then fall 10 steps back
Its a vicious cycle
Over and over again
Its beginning to bore me
I get my hopes up
All the time
In the end
Its always the same
Depression changes people
Many for the worse
I've become someone different
Its hard to overcome
I push the ones i love away
It all ends up in pain
I just want to be me again
The one who didn't acknowledge the depression
Because now i feel its overrun me..
The Princess and the DemonThe princess was perfect as could be,
Admired by everyone she would see.
Her skin was smooth and very fair.
So long and flowing was her hair.
But there was one thing she feared.
She heard the demon coming near.
The demon would attack the town,
Destroy everything that was around.
Despite all her great fame,
The demon she could not tame.
As the demon continued to grow.
There was a secret the town didn't know.
There was no one she could confide.
The demon the princess held inside.
At night the princess just changed.
Her mind and body become deranged.
Her town she didn't know how to defend.
Only one way she could bring to an end.
One quick draw of the knife.
The princess took the demon's life.
Nobody Told MeNobody told me,
How to act.
I wish I knew how much was too much,
or when too little was not enough.
If somebody told me,
that the small things meant the most,
and the big things were forgettable;
Where would I be today?
Nobody told me,
Who to love.
What came of the people I knew
and who were the people I would have known?
If somebody told me,
that I HAD the perfect person,
or that I am with the wrong one;
Would I be able to live with myself?
Nobody told me,
How to feel.
Is what I am feeling right or wrong,
and which should I act upon?
If somebody told me,
that I was being overly obsessive,
or that I shouldn't have let go:
Would I be the same person I am now?
Nobody told me...
...and I'm not sure if I'd want to know the answers.
Blind To SeeI can not see,
I do not understand.
Maybe I am just confused,
It would not be a first.
Read my lips,
Write my emotions,
Tell my story,
Just do not look at me.
Sad you might say.
Confused and alone.
Blind and lost.
But who are you to say?
I may be blind, confused, sad,
I could be a forgotten hope or lost thought,
Maybe I am.
But I do not see your point.
Seeing is not only looking,
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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