|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Set For Stunread the signs
see how they run
blind like fabled vermin
headless, and hen-pecked
but porcelain smashing
they call the comet down
and in the end it's up to us
like we always knew it would be
but couldn't, and still can't
perhaps as you least expect
like Commodus killing Germans after all
like alcoholic fingers stained with death
There'll be no escape for the princess this time.
Lord, Lady, LoverLord, Lady, Lover
Elohinah lama sabacthani
Fulfill your word, let me expire
and in this form, re-suspire
then I shall finish the task
for which I was self-created
The temporal mechanics
rock around the clock
closing the gaps
on the orders of the psi-cops
They're game for you
they've got all your numbers
selling tickets to the lottery show
That's not what we're here for
and you know
This can be more real
than a tummy ache
Let your heart break
until it is unbreakable
Don't be scared of the last part
we have the momentum
or we will
and dare to no!
when they tell you what
you're "supposed to"
thelema end low easewhy knot?
why know it? who knew it?
why no it? aye, knew it.
yay! neigh. decide to say it.
decide who said it.
nuit? hadit? left it.
but I can't touch it yet. why? knot.
unravel, and be it.
Found Ten Headsclock addicts keeping score
waiting for the next feed
in time for the starting line
a past disguised as the future
I scheme, you scheme
the war of line-drawing
virtual construction dreams
and something that was once
and shall yet be
(we're all secret agents, here in annexia)
slowly, so as not to arouse
the reality cops,
plead the 23rd
"it's all a game, right?"
We love you so muchand then she reminds you of what you[re] hear [for]
the secret wink lets you know
that it's all a stage
and shakespeare had it right
but no one understands him either
even he didn't
and it's going to be fine
even if the worst happens.
But you can't go on like that
"keep fighting my little loved one,
I'll only love you more for it,
for you are the greatest testimony
I could ask for."
how great is the movie that makes you really feel pain?
the science of silence.your arms form a barrier, blocking out all sound,
there is nothing but you.
you are the only thing that
can make a buzzing fan
sound like a butterfly;
a creaking house
like a lullaby.
moaning wind and soft footsteps,
tickings of clocks, downstairs.
but you made it feel like a soft cocoon;
a weightless wall of something golden:
"silence is good in its absolution,"
The stormCartilage-smooth azure extends
above bent heads.
Furrows s t r e t c h b e y o
the edge n
My WinterCardinals will
from the branches like
and the sky will turn to smoke.
The ground crunches under your feet and its
Almost as if you could
across the ice.
Brandished behind screens of glass
are fists of ivory
They are covered in scratches and
from the dark like magnolia blossoms.
napoleon at sevenan old guitarist sitting
on a watercolor hill,
plucking on six strings absent.
two halves of breasts running near
under van gogh's starry night,
under black-white guernica.
everything in all jigsaws,
everything in trepid cubes.
a girl before a mirror
with violin and guitar,
sitting with three musicians
and a woman with her book,
stippling all realities
of intangible maternity.
hours yielding from dalí's clock,
minutes sub-the alchemist
like rain, like raining, like rained—
portraits wilt with abstract smiles.
clear sfumato, oh still life,
napoleon at seven.
The Vampire and His Servant I The Vampire and his Servant
As I fall on the withered ground,
I stare up at the darkening sky,
Tears pouring from my pleading eyes.
I want to be free from this hell
Light footsteps sound, stepping toward me.
I turn my head, slowly, the fear sending chills down my spine
Making my heart cold.
He walks towards me, his graceful legs carrying him closer.
His long black hair whips against his pale face
As a sudden wind makes contact with his slender body
As he reaches me, he kneels down in front of my crumbled body.
I flinch visibly and turn my head a
winter footnoteswinter footnotes
your elbows were anchors
in a softly-lit parking lot,
where you sang to glass and paper:
and your visions are quiet hills
your visions are shy sounds
your visions are sheep covered in frost.
like an old shoe-
that dry rasp
that leaves me covered in skin flakes,
brushed onto the wall .
I am the raised bumps in spackle-
ripped off with the sound of a poor phonograph:
in my chain link home,
a residual ghost.
losing everything i never hadit's an early morning as the sun is rising, stepping into my mother's room and moving towards her bed, careful not to disturb the dark shadows on the walls, or the lulling silence that's filling the steps between us, i ask her when she wearily opens her eyes, "why was i born?"
her face held no expression, and she didn't reply
she didn't reply
i might as well not have gotten out of bed today.
i might as well be -
and sometimes as i'm sitting in the passenger seat, i lose track of where i'm headed. i lose track of the fact that i'm moving, i'm moving somewhere slowly across a map. i'm moving with the world, and i'm just one person out of so many. so fucking many. i watch the rode beneath the tires blur passed us. i watch the clouds drift along with us, the trees look like ghosts. i feel the time move along with us, as the sun falls to the floor and gives up letting the stars take it's place. the moon has painted my skin white, just as i sputter out my words and let them fade
brushing the willow,
swallow many branches, while
brushing the willow
they hear the
scratch, the bark
at the back of your throat.
Scratch the bark,
they hear the
brushing the willow,
They hear the
scratch, the bark
at the back of your throat;
scratch the bark
they hear the
brushing the willow
.- Blood Lust -.His hand, cool against my skin.
My warm breath carresses his neck as he leans back.
I hold my body close to his, pressing our warmth together.
Is this love?
I pull him towards me, and open my mouth wider.
His eyes flash towards me, shock showing in them.
I move closer to the warm flesh on his neck, my mouth aching to taste the blood running in the veins underneath...
Is this lust?
My teeth sink into the skin on his neck.
I hear him groan in pain, watch his eyes roll back.
His blood trickles down my chin, and it flows downmy throat.
This is bloodlust.
that said...communistication breakdown,
it's always the same (or different)
heaving the neural brake down
drives me in Sane.
it's always something
or maybe it's alternatingly not exactly
you're not watery enough
because you're frayed
afraid of their myths
they got you
I'll slide you out from under
Destroy your construct and make you
Then the enemy will fall,
with nothing to enemize
no violence to economize
Think of how palestine could be one.
How the east was won.
Let go and let the world embrace you.
If you don't, I'll make you.
It's not a contradiction
my silly statist fantasists
I'm not saying you're fantascists...
Just that the ant's getting in the way
The best defense is a good defense. Get it?
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
Keep in Touch!
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