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ShatteredShe remembers it now; there’s blood (oh yes she can remember the blood thick and red and sticky and dead) and pain (it’s what she is made of now what she will be) and the feeling of something inside her mind snapping like a guitar string (it’s a musical sound almost pretty she takes care of it and remembers the sound of unrepairable) shattering and bleeding and disappearing in tiny supernovas that leave behind a strange urge to smile and the icy knowledge that this is what she is; shattered.
She smiles into the darkness, eyes open but unable to see (they took care of that they did), arms wrapped around her torso and legs (at least the one she can move without pain she is pain why) pressed against her chest.
They turn on the light but it’s not them and she blinks as her eyes try to adjust to the brightness (it hurts so but she missed it why did she not remember) and they’re strangers (she doesn’t think she can trust them but her body is limp and her m
Love is CruelLove is cruel.
There is no doubt in my mind about this. Love is as cruel as it is kind.
It is the curve of her jaw and the silhouette of her face I study the most. she is lovely, free and happy as a bird and with the depth and beauty of a mountain lake 'neath a full moon. Sometimes the secretive veil of darkness pulls back and I am allowed to look at what resides deep down. I am captured; mesmerised by these brief glimpses of what makes her her.
I hang on to her words and her beautiful accent more than I let show. She is important to me; far more so than she knows. When she speaks I listen.
I love her. Fully and with all my heart, I love her. I do not know if she feels the way I do, but I pray she does. Love unreturned is a slow poison.
How BarrenHow barren, this land
Once home to thousands
How empty, these hands
Begging for food
How silent, the pantheon
Sworn to protect them
How unjust, the fate
Assigned to the poor
MonochromeA garden clad in darkness
With shadows all around
A beating heart of blackened stone
With veins of rubies crowned
A moving star crossing skies alone
The day is dead, the night has come
Vanilla swirls in bowls of blood
A taste of wild and tame
A figure in a darkened hood
Never quite the same
A howling moon so far away
The desert crawls with life today
Swimming in the river deep
An ancient beast is deep asleep
Buried treasure 'neath the tree
Not for mortal eyes to see
A pen on paper, scratching words
Monochrome, a page of blurs
Light in darkness, shining weak
Frightened children for it seek
Yet, once the fleeting light is found
Cold ashes resting on the ground
Sunrise over mountains high
A painter gives a grateful sigh
Quiet reigns where sound should be
A storm is raging silently
The scratching stops, the paper curls
A hand no longer with us furls
Whispers the WindWhispers the wind
In the hours of day
O'er the noise
Of life, as it passes
Whispers the wind
In the hours of night
In the silence
Of dark, as it passes
Whispers the wind
In the hours between
In changing light
And sound, as it rests
LightA being at the very edge of his vision was kneeling over the fallen human. It was weaving strands of glimmering light in a web over her chest, the thin threads passing through each other and sticking in seemingly random places as she worked. The fine weave pulsed gently as it hovered just above her chest save for where the being had delicately pressed one fingertip down to attach it to the dead woman. The being then wove the connected strands into each other, and soon one thin fiber of light was attached to each of the fingertips on her right hand. She raised her hand then, gathering the strands and gently pressing them to the palm of her hand before spreading her fingers out again, letting her hand hover in the air for a few moments. The body was lifted off the ground, only a few inches, as if the little light threads were puppet strings. The strands of light glowed brighter and the world seemed to hold its breath when she brought her hand down, fingers still spread and palm flat. The
Grey and silverIn a world of grey and silver
Colours muted by the fog
I stand silent in the snowscape
With a smile of grateful joy
I see the hidden beauty
In a bleak and quiet day
The lack of sound is calming
Wish it could stay this way
This landscape that I tell of
Is never far away
As fog and frost still rule the world
You'll see it too
I promise you
Peacock BlueThe sky is blue. It’s a beautiful shade, the colour of peacock feathers. I stand on a green hill underneath a blue sky and smile at the warm, yellow sunlight.
A gentle breeze rustles in the leaves and tousles the long grass as I close my eyes. Soft footsteps sound behind me, slightly out of sync with the wind. That’s how I hear her.
She comes to stand beside me on the hill, and her top is a link between the sky and the grass, beautiful and green-blue. She smiles at me and I smile back.
“Thunderstorm’s coming,” she says. I nod.
We stand together and watch torn clouds the colour of bruised lead close over the peacock blue sky. Somewhere lightning flashes, the momentary flare of light illuminating her face and making her features stand out in sharp relief. I take her hand.
We will weather this storm together. Because behind wild clouds of bruised lead there is a sky the colour of peacock feathers and a warm, yellow sun.
I look up. She's giving me a worried look as I pull the earplugs out and pause the music.
"You looked like you were about to cry there for a moment," she says. My face is blank as I think back for a moment.
I think back again, listen to the music in my head, and I don't say anything. Because how can you put music into words? How can you convey such feelings of loss, sadness, of greatness, of hope, of belief in a new day, a new dawn? How do you explain the feeling of something great ending and something truly magnificent beginning? How? When you can hear the sunset and the dawn, how do you turn that into words?
I can't. So I smile and shrug.
"Dunno. Just thinking," I say.
And she leaves it at that.
Old Spice-Different Nations and CitiesBonjour Ladies , Look at Your man. Now Back at me. Now back at your man. Now back at me again. Sadly he is not me. But if he stopped eating hamburgers and benched pressed moose like me , he could attempt to be MANLY like me. Look down. Back up! Where are we? We're on an iceberg in the arctic. What have I got? It's a baby seal. Look again! The seal is now maple syrup.ablicon Anything is possible when your canadian , I'm on a bear.
'ello Ladies Look at Your man. Now Back at me. Now back at your man. Now back at me again. Sadly he is not me. But if he started using magic, stop being a frog face and drank tea like me he could attempt to be MANLY like me. Look down. Back up! Where are we? We're on candy mountain. What have I got? It's a baby fairy . Look again! The fairy is now pixie dust. Anything is possible when your british , I'm on a Unicorn.
Konichiwa radies rook at Your man. Now Back at me. Now back at your man. Now back at me again. Sadly he is not me. But if he stopped singing gang
Infatuation . . .
What is this . . . feeling that I couldn't shake myself free from?
I honestly don't know, despite that I felt this way in some points of my life that led up until now . . . Okay, I'll admit that I have felt this way towards a few, selective guys in my classes—I mean . . .
You see, I've been having my heart's eyes on this guy for a little too long. Like, this isn't normal at all—not for me, that is. I'm somewhat of a . . . tough girl (if that's even a proper way to describe me briefly), you know? It's rare for me to head over heels for someone just from the sight of a boy that seems like my type. The main—er, one of the main—reasons for this has to do with my education. What I mean by that is getting exceptional grades as I pave my own little path to graduation at the end of my high school years.
The boy that my oh-so fluttering heart was spying on was honestly decent lookin
Prowl and Jazz's little once grown up brat. *Vent*For the past several days Ninjadash just starting to experience what humans called it a "Teenage Temper Tantrum problem". His sire Prowl and his carrier Jazz doesn't know that Ninjadash is having this problem. Ninjadash only aruges, fights and ignore his sire. When he is in the training room alone or in his room alone, he will be throwing things, punching and kicking everything in his path. Plus he will eb saying words like "Frag it!" or "Slag it!", but he sometimes be calling other bots "FRAG YOU!" or "SLAG YOU!"
A mu keletkezesenek korulmenyei Nyár volt, vagy ha nem, hát május, ragyogó. Meleg. Az a fajta, ami koránkelésre buzdít meg cselekvésre. Arra a fajtára, amit magunk választunk ki magunknak.
A lány felkelt korán, hogy cselekedjen, tanfolyamra induljon. Megivott két csésze feketét, hacsak em éppen hármat, megetette a szürkét és a fehéret, azokat a bajszosokat, amik dorombolnak és nyávognak. Gyorsan átfutotta táskája tartalmát, tankönyv, füzet, szótár, tolltartó, rendben. Aztán olvasójegy, könyvtári könyv, vázlatfüzet rajzoknak, színes ceruza, jegyzetfüzet írásoknak, tökéletes. Minden a helyén, az is, ami kell és az is, ami kell. És persze a lakat. A lakat nagyon fontos. Kerékpárl
My evil puppet roommate - Sneaking out - part 1"Oh, come on, Slappy, it's just for a few hours!" begged Niky, joining her hands in plea
"Yeah" Rosechan approved "It won't take long! We'll be back so soon you won't even notice we've been out!"
"I said no, slaves!" said Slappy, in an harsh tone.
The girls wanted to hang out with their friends that evening, but Slappy didn't want to let them go. So, has he sat on his armchair, they knealed down in front of him and started to beg him persistently
"We did a great job this week, remember?" said Niky, hopefully "You said it too, Master! We fixed your armchair and pillows right, and cleaned the room properly, washed and dried your jacket perfectly... We even ironed your suit!"
"That's right!" nodded Rosechan "You said we did such a good job, we deserved a reward!"
"So... why don't you let us go out, just for tonight?" Niky asked "Then we'll be happy and no more bother you, Master, please-!"
"Enough!" Slappy shout made the girls fall on the carpet. He slipped down from the armchair, and sto
my first relationship in real life with a woman.Okay so when I discovered I was bi sexual, I really liked this girl. Her name was Sarah, now because past experiences, I was too shy to tell her. I didn't want to lose her like I did before with someone else.
Anyway, after a while of being friends I spoke to her on Skype. Now as Cara and other people will say that I'm bad at flirting.. I tried flirting and it hinted that I liked her, but too much. So her reaction was "Okay. I'm sensing you like me more than a friend." and I said "Yeah.." she then said, "Okay. We can date. I sorta want to experiment with someone so I think this could benefit both of us. But keep this to yourself, it's just between us." So we dated for a week.
But there's more! The next day after I agreed to being her girlfriend was quite different to me, when I saw her my body literally fucking shook with fear. I remember the night she said we were dating, I couldn't stop thinking about her and I just wanted her with me really badly. She hugged me really tig
Tupperware Party You’ve been invited to a Tupperware party
A Tupperware party?
My mom use to get invited to Tupperware parties.
I would always sit there bored, thinking about how stupid they were.
I didn’t understand why dishes could be so fascinating.
I didn’t understand why ladies would throw Tupperware parties;
Why to be a lady one had to sit and look at dishes.
I’m twenty-two now,
And I was just invited to a Tupperware party.
A Tupperware party?
Am I really old enough to be invited to a Tupperware party?
Am I really at that point where I can no longer sit on the side line;
Sit on the side line thinking about how stupid talking about dishes is?
I don’t know what’s worse.
That I was just invited to a Tupperware party,
Or that I actually kind of want to go.
Blood MoonWe stood in the middle of the road in flip flops and winter jackets. Our silhouettes were outlined by the motion sensor lights on the porch, our heads tilted back searching the sky.
"Have we ever even looked for the moon out here before?"
She shrugs and sighs. "No, but we also have never been out at half past twelve."
"Yes we have. We just never looked at the sky." Maybe because we didn't care if it was their, as long as we had the porch light, we didn't need the moon. But i didn't say that.
I saw lights down the road but they weren't moving closer.
"Should we go up to the turn-around?"
The car sounded exceptionally loud leaving the driveway at this time. We pulled up on the mat of pine needles on the side of the road and stepped out of the car. We went to both sides of the road and strained our necks but we saw nothing.
"Should we go to the bottom of the hill?" It's a mountain. I know why she calls it the hill though. It's such a gradual slope you'd never guess you were a thousa
GeysirLocated a little north of a field full of steaming holes and boiling water, the geysir sits quietly after the last eruption, which threw many liters of boiling water almost 20 meters into the air. Now, after water has finished rushing down into the for a while seemingly bottomless hole, the geysir sits silent and still.
For a while all is quiet, and the water steams passively in the cold air. Deceptively immobile on the surface, the warmth in the ground heats the water, already nearly a hundred degrees celsuis hot, to even higher temperatures. The weight of the water on top of this superheated bubble keeps it liquid, at least for the time being.
On the surface, a few bubbles break in the still, cold air. The geysir is coming alive.
For a short while, nothing happens. Then the water suddenly rises, threatening to let out the bubble of superheated steam that is forming below. But the weight of the water is still enough to keep the geysir from erupting, and so it only breathes instead, in
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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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