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SoftI am lying in bed. It is so cold, my fingers have turned red. I hear you unlock the door, your footsteps echoing on the worn out carpet. You see my light is on "hey!" you yell. I yell "hey" back, and you move on down to your room.
I wrap my silk robe around myself, covering my pajamas. "Hey man, you wanna drink tonight?" My lips form the words, whilst my mind races, waiting for the answer. "Ha-ha, sure". "Cool, I will go get my brandy then." I slip into my room, grab my recent ex-boyfriends South African brandy and take it into the lounge, where you reside. My eyes flicker to the glasses you have set up, and the pure whiskey winks at me as you pour yourself a glass.
"Fucků we need some coke!" you exclaim, as I pour a nip of brandy in our striped water-drinking glasses. "I'm gonna pop down to the shop, you want anything?" "Ha-ha, no thanks, I am in my PJ's and can't be bothered getting out of them!" "Sweet", you say, as you grab your keys. "I'll be back" you call as the door shuts. I am
The sound of my nails pulling at the bricks echoes around my circular enclosure. I keep pulling, although pain is shooting along my figertips, through my hand and up my arm. I am determined to escape. I must escape.
The wind whispers through the small, barred window above me. Its voice biting viciously into my flesh and searing my bones. I pull my velvet dress tighter around my body, hoping to warm myself against it.
Beaten, I sit slowly on my bed. How many days, weeks, months have I been locked in here?
Looking around, it would be almost easy to think that my jail contained an Elizabethen princess. A large, ornately carved four poster bed with silk sheets and lace blankets... A large (unbreakable), gilded mirror and a rusted old chamber pot decorated, and served, my space.
He dressed me in fine clothes. Clothes that, on the outside, I would have died to have. Flowing dark red velvet dresses, wine coloured skirts, black lingere, corsets that squeezed my flesh into pulp, but made me loo
Lie down in the forest of orchids [a murder vixen].
I hear the lobotomised swarm of insects.
Swarming towards me, coming for me, running at me.
They perch themselves on my decaying shell.
They know I am alive, alive,
They know I can feel, feel,
They want me dead, dead,
The candles are burning low. I cannot gather the energy required to pull myself from between the silk black sheets that grip my thighs. The lighting is dim. I need to light more candles. But instead of crawling out of bed and lighting more candles, I pull the sheets up to the stubble on my chin and lie on my spine, glaring at the cigarette stained roof.
There is a deafening knock on my door. The sound resonates in my ears, climbing down my earlobe and resting in my cochlea. I groan and fall out of my bed. I rise and stumble to the door, scratching my arse on the way. I unlock the cheap chain and turn the plated silver knob.
"oh. It's you" I groan, letting her in and returning to the womb of my bed. She smiles vacantly and closes the door behind her. I hear the rattle of the chain as she locks us inside.
She smells like an ancient mosque. Like she always does. She sits beside me, her long black nails scraping down my thigh. I watch her hands move in their sensuous attempt and wish they
Adonta ta Mele
His hands are cancer,
His eyes are plasma
inhaling my virus
[deleting the one who painfully exists].
His mouth is brain fluid
swirling around my veins, encountering my rapid motions
[poisoning my psyche].
He is my depravity
my soul with no voice
singing to a choir of angels risen from Hitler's grave.
He is my chrotid artery,
severed and decaying
continuing to live when
His persona is mine,
dry, sardonic and dead.
He is alive,
in a plastic martini world.
I swallow his glass dust
and hate myself for it.
Chained to the moon he sits
shivering in the warmth of the
His paper skin is torn by
black ink needles over his
The rain drips, e.v.a.p.o.r.a.t.i.n.g
down his naked
Pallid grey eyes fill with salt
as a mixed psychosis spills into his cupped
His silent screams of indecipherable messages and
black voids of suffering are passively excreted from his sanguinary
Borderline and bleeding, he speaks of
broken dolls, lost words and
His sinuous junkie arms move [like a child reaching for forbidden candy]
as he reaches toward the invisible thread of hope life promises
Walking back into the dark he mutters to the moths as his
eyes spil glass... transforming him into a bleeding
Kill meKing of the damned
I can't live like that
Leave me to die
Let this nightmare end
My friend, please
End my life
L'ombre de ton ombre(English version below)
Une brise printanière passe. Sous la douce Aurore, des souvenirs bourgeonnent, et tes regards de bleuet...
La saison de notre amour.
Parmi les échos dans ma tête, ta voix y résonne. Comme si j'avais grandi près de toi, à t'apprendre petit à petit
J'aimerais te faire rire.
J'arrache de ta garde-robe quelques fragments de ton être. La douceur du coton, du lin, et de la laine m'enivre
Doux parfum de tes habits.
La perfection de tes courbes et le désir qui en émane réveillent en moi des sentiments encore inconnus
Un péché vivant.
Marchant comme si tu étais porté par le mistral, ta démarche est puissante et virile
Retourne-toi, je suis là.
The Russian Sleep Experiment: Sleep Beyond DreamsRending sanity’s veil as I lie comatose, awake
Awakening to find I cannot feel my face
Face-to-face with my own weakness, I break
Breaking down, everything falls away
Away from here, anywhere, I think I’ll leave
“LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU MONSTERS!” What?
What am I? I am not me, this is another’s hand
Handshakes and experiments, that is why I am here
Here in this space outside of time I am free
Freely I crawl, rip the hairless monkey to shreds
Shredding reality, I am soon put back to sleep
Sleep is temporary, my kind will wake again
Boy Who Ate BugsPush your head down
towards that brown
dirty, wet ground
You see all these bugs
the ants, the worms
And put them
into your dinky mouth
I hear your parents screaming
Black Widow VIIlux
under the midnight moon, i stay awake in the hollow tresses of the drowning basement and it WON'T STOP SCREAMING AT ME STOP SCREAMING
run run run run d
i i rain
h rain h
A reasonOur love
You had to
A single one
Barbed Wire BallerinaShe spins and twirls with absolute elegance,
The silent whisper of her dance and art,
Watching her every graceful move from the third row.
Her paleness is like the moons shimmering glare on a wintry sky,
And her thin, swift body is beyond words of expression,
As the orchestra wails of a tragedy,
She entangles you into ever cry, every sorrow, every loss
Deep within the tale.
When the curtain shrouds the remains of the performance,
I stand with the crowd to clap and cheer,
Awaiting for a chance to escape the third row.
As the crowd slowly drifts from the ballroom,
I sneak around to the doors leading to backstage,
And as I set foot in their dressing rooms,
I find her still wearing some of the tragic beauty from the show.
I tremble in my skin whether from anxiety or disbelief,
Her perfection and exquisite entirety strangles me to near faint,
And when she sensed presence and turned to look at me,
When she spoke... spoke with a voice angels would sin for.
I could not answer any of the questi
Vampire LamentVampire Lament
Vampires need to sooth their minds
The desire for blood is overwhelming
They need music to ease the pain
And help them deal with their manic obsession
The vampire Clara plays the violin
In a cemetery full of lost souls
She plays a vampire lament
They kill humans but they have regret
They long for death
But are driven by their mania
It is a life of everlasting pain
The emotion of the music is over-powering
And tears roll down her face
She remembers all those she has killed
Or turned into vampires
To live in torment forever
The music is beautiful and emotional
It is full of loss and regret
If you hear the vampire lament
There will be tears in your eyes
These vampires deserve our pity
But do not show them mercy
For they will take away your soul
And you will suffer for eternity
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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