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NeroI need to go somewhere and be the hero
And then I'll burn out just like Nero
'Cause I won't love or sleep or bleed.
My fiddle and I are all I'll need.
And if my old dame tries to smother
I'll do as he did to his mother
And though I'm not from Antium
I'll soon find myself growing numb
'Cause I don't love or sleep or bleed.
My fiddle and I are all I need.
And when I rule, they all will sing
'Cause everybody wants a king
Who doesn't love or sleep or bleed
And their self and a fiddle is all that they need
A curious name
For such a dull young girl
A far-lost dame
That long ago left our world.
A Wish.I'd find the way to say
The thoughts that tumble in my mind
If my batteries were running
On infinity time.
I'd write the new best seller,
Or explore outer space,
Alas, I'd rather be home in my own
Lovely, mortal place.
happy thoughts.The light of the mood
Illuminates the room
Your lips graze my cheek, and you whisper,
You look beautiful tonight,
And perhaps I do.
And then you take me to the ballroom,
You ask me to dance.
Our blistered feet keep time with the beat,
And for once, you smile, really smile,
You look so handsome (You really do).
I want to stay like this, here,
But when my time has come,
And my fantasies are done,
I will shrivel into nothing more than the fly on your wall,
And be just a passing memory.
Reminders of you.After Ryan died, life sort of fell apart and came back together with a couple of stitches besides.
Flowers. The flowers helped me.
I wake up, water my flowers, take a shower, eat breakfast, talk to my flowers, go out with Spencer and Jon and pretend that everything is normal, eat lunch, fertilize my flowers, eat dinner, talk to my flowers, and finnaly I go to bed.
And sometimes, the flowers talk back.
They murmur little things like "Thank you," and sing sweet little ditties.
Sometimes, I think it's Ryan, espescially when they say "I have loved you for as long as I can remember, I will never, ever leave you."
Some call it crazy.
I call it love.
Abandoned ChapelThe parish waits now,
the loneliness of corners
crawling outward on walls--
chipped away by the wind,
and held together
by silk spindles;
cobwebs align them like the membranes of memories,
the cut of a jewel in an broken window
against the sun
where beads of rain
gather in a mesh of strands
a new Mosaic
against the backdrop of a cemetery;
My eyes seek out the sermon
in close proximity,
paint no distance
between headstone and cloud;
elegies topple each other
in their climb to heaven
as light trickles
over the shade,
breathes a new glow over snuffed candles.
I feel the weight in these empty rows,
how a breath couldn't cease to be breath
in the midst of prayer.
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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