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Start AgainStart Again
When I got the call, I sat down hard on my bed.
I was shocked.
No, wait, thats putting it mildly; I was devastated. In total disbelief.
There was no way this was true; no way this was real life. Things like this just didnt happen to people. They happened on TV and in movies, but not to people who you really know. Not to people you love and care about.
It was all too weird.
I dropped the phone on my bed and walked out of my room, I grabbed my jacket and hit the streets. Thats what I do to think, I just walk.
Dirk and I had been best friends since second grade, when Bigman Ben called me Barfboy Brian and tried beating me up on the playground. Dirk came to my rescue by throwing mulch in Bens face and Ben forgot all about me for the rest of second grade, until his parents pulled him out of our school.
Even though the bully was gone, Dirk and I were inseparable. Best friends for life.
But it was only recently that I had noti
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
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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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