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I think I’ve been living under a rock for too long. Nobody recognizes me anymore.
Last week, the bunnies struck again. One of them started stomping on the face of an old woman while screaming random passages from Revelations. In a separate part of town, they started a drunken fight in the middle of the street and accidentally sliced the throat open of one of their own.
They’re everywhere, the bunnies. They’re an infestation. They hide their faces under masks, so they can do anything. Then they do anything. They do the most blood curdling blood sports of which any human being would not be capable. I wonder if these are human beings.
I see the bunnies everywhere. They walk down streets. They see other members, and sometimes they attack. That’s just their nature, I suppose. They kill and eat their young. I saw one of them carving up some guy with a switchblade and yelling obscenities I had never heard before. I raised my gun, I shouted at him, and he wouldn’t
Flat Tires Of The Egocentric Man
The chemistry changes.
My head rotates on its axis.
The world spins around me.
The universe is accelerating,
and I am a cog in the machine.
It’s a small machine.
You push a button
and it makes a lot of noise.
The cubicles are getting smaller.
You’ll have to use a smaller desk.
Things are going to change soon.
Can you not feel it in your skin?
Things are going too fast,
I can’t keep up with all the changes.
Dance faster, dance harder.
You can’t use a desk anymore.
You’ll have to stand and think about work,
we have this device we’ll plant in your brain
and it will do the typing for you.
Can you hear the music?
It’s getting louder,
and it’s invading your neighborhood,
the only way to keep up is to dance.
Dance faster, dance harder,
and you might keep up for a while.
I am a cog in the machine,
a machine which gets bigger
and I don’t know what it’s
supposed to do anymore.
Your body is taking up too much space,
so we’re going
The Great Blindness
We are thrown into this world
having never seen the dawn,
into chaos we are hurled.
I don’t know what’s going on.
These are faces with no names
now they’re here and next they’re gone.
There’s no time for funny games,
I don’t know what’s going on.
Give me info, give me scope,
give me prayer, give me hope.
Give me beers, give me cars,
Give me blood, give me scars.
Hiding In The Bushes
The man in the bushes sees many things.
He sees a dog chew on a dirty shoe,
a small child trying to ride a red wagon by himself,
Two people talking about Communism for some reason,
a man scratching his genitals,
thirty birds flying in a random formation,
a red volkswagon beetle,
a child riding an electric scooter that runs out of batteries,
and a dog scratching his genitals.
The man in the bushes makes sounds
to the people on the street.
He makes bird sounds and they frighten the children,
He shouts swear words and the adults power walk away,
The dogs responded positively to woof sounds.
At one point, nobody was around,
so the man just yelled random noises.
He made cat calls to some passing woman,
but they didn’t respond much to a screeching cat.
The man in the bushes interacts
with the people in the street.
He walked up to people,
and said “Hi. That is my shrub over there.
It is where I live. I eat meals there.”
Ne would likely never see those people again.
The Search For A Milkshake
The man had not eaten for 5 days and nights,
and on the sixth day, he woke up
desiring only one thing in the world:
So, he stepped out into the world,
looking for an ice cream shop.
The world seemed to be covered in concrete.
Dying yellow grass grew between the cracks
and hung on against the beating winds.
By the time the man reached the first shop,
the sign outside said it opened tomorrow.
There was surely a place open somewhere,
so he continued on.
The more he walked, the stronger the wind grew.
Sand that had been dormant for many days
suddenly flew into his face,
forcing him to shield his eyes.
The winds grew stronger still,
as those around him lost their footing
and tumbled away, helpless against nature.
It must have been hours before
in the distance, he saw amongst the concrete world
a banner, with OPEN written across it,
and an ice cream store.
Nothing good ever came easy.
Wind Travels Around Us
The radio was good company.
A man sat in an open field with the last boombox on Earth. He hugged his legs and thought about staying warm. There was a wind blowing against his back, but the wind had been blowing for so long. He would probably die in an open field.
His left hand was idly grasping the short grass next to him. His right hand, almost without thinking about it, started fiddling with the knobs on the radio, until he accidentally turned it on. Completely by accident, it was turned perfectly to a radio station, and the song began at that exact moment. Todd Rundgren’s “I Saw the Light” started playing. Miracles are tiny things.
The man sat and listened to the music. It cut through the atmosphere. The man lied back on the ground and let the wind rush over him. It was a cold wind, but as the wind rushed over his eyes, it seemed like a perfect moment. This one song was just for him. This massive wind, at this one moment, was for him and no one else. What an amazin
Give me a chance.
Give me a drink.
Give me a drink.
Give me a drink.
Give me a bucket.
I don’t see the light.
There is no light,
it was made up!
Magic is dead!
Give me a drink.
I don’t wanna sleep!
I don’t wanna eat!
Sleeping’s for the weak!
Eating’s for Sunday!
I have better things to do!
Give me a step.
Give me a microphone.
Give me a dollar.
Give Me Your Dollar.
I don’t wanna spend it.
I wanna watch it,
I wanna put it in a bank
and watch it,
This is the mirror.
This is your face in the mirror.
That man is dead!
His life is on a speed of light delay!
He’s a failure,
you can’t be that guy!
Give me your eyes.
Give me your attention,
I want everyone’s attention!
These are the final moments!
The world will end tomorrow!
Let me show you the new world!
It’s just over the hill!
Give me your attention!
Give me your faces!
Give me a chance!
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
the only letter I've ever wanted to burni.
if you want to give someone the silent treatment,
the first step is shutting up.
things made much more sense
when I was younger.
I thought there was one path,
each choice a stepping stone upon it.
in reality there are a million roads
intertwined like rope.
I got lost
I chose you.
promises are easily broken.
I knew that,
but it still hurt
spending friday night
shivering in the rain,
choking on cannabis perfume
in a dirt parking lot
your face never graced.
and I hoped against hope
you might appear,
but I wasted my wishing
on ungrateful you.
you died before taking your first breath.
I took a chance
and I should've known better.
you can give somebody all you have
and nothing can stop them from
throwing it away.
you've made this bed,
now lie in it.
you slit this suture,
you're the goddamn reason
I gave up on the month of april,
and soon enough you'll fall on your own blade
like some drunken samurai.
if you want
Die AloneI take apart her heart
And lay the pieces down
In a circular form.
Let her bleed a work of art.
I forgot I’m crazy.
I’ll whisper my secrets
Only if she promises
To die here alone with me.
.What do you want to be when you grow up?
They ask it like a dare.
As if letting your unlikely dreams
slip from the safety of your mind
could bring their own
a little closer to reality.
car crash on an empty roadit happened before
we did. it was more a person
than you or I or that boy
in the park trying
to convince us to
stupid. it happened
before your smile
cracked the sky in half, before
our laughters slurred into
a dissonant song, before
your fingers traced the stories
lying on my face before I knew
just how many pieces of sunshine
were trapped in your hair before
the walls became the ceiling and
I wasn’t claustrophobic.
things I remember:
the red blur of your room like
God was experimenting with the
symbolism in modern art, the
tri-tone shimmering of your eyes
like the surface of the water, the way
you defined perfection as a scale of
women ending with a less than sensible
me, the way you always moved like
you were dancing and no one was there to
RelativityLooking in the mirror
through the mirror
seeing a stranger,
My chest swells and my heart lurches
This girl isn't me, not at all
She looks like someone
but not me.
A movie star, a homeless person.
Even when I look at photos
no memory comes up
no allowing for the thought that I have a body
Or that the cold of my fingertips,
the throb of anxiety inside my ribs
I see my arm, an armband
A scar, a vein, a ring that has no meaning
But it did, to this girl in the mirror
Even if memory fails
Existence is relative
Dizzy Girl,you can't cure sorrow. The drops
on the windshield are swallowed
by this traffic's color and you
are just the driver.
Other people pass
with paint blearing,
though I do wish
there was an ending,
questions spark in halos
of low street lamps as you veer
toward the center,
recollections are ceaseless.
She will be at your left and the gust
through the tinted window
will be humid,
you taste her last spirit
in the smoke and
This room keeps on rolling.
The furniture breaks as it hits each wall.
Papers fly everywhere.
Metal flies into the wall sockets,
And causes blue sparks.
This is the tumbler.
The stones inside become smooth
And get a subtle shine.
Nothing can get in or out,
But we know what's happening inside.
You can stop the tumbler,
But you won't.
People can only stare
At things in motion.
To interject would be asking too much.
The room keeps on rolling,
But nobody wants to step outside.
They don't know what's happening there.
The world may be spinning around them,
And nobody wants to make that adjustment.
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