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Pale Fingered LiarsI see you there, just sitting there, shy beneath your blue eyed stare. I feel I know that ginger hair, that blue eyed stare, just sitting there. But you are lost, without a care for a forgotten child you once called fair. Perhaps one day I shall meet you there, upon the stair, with no one there but your blue eyed stare.
And yet in that other photograph stand those in bowties, such tender lies. Such delicate lies of a family shrouded in disguise. No blue eyes come with those silken ties. Lies, just lies, like flies which fester upon a rotting carcass - a carcass of a home's demise.
Perhaps one day I shall meet you there, upon the stair, with no one there. I hope one day your blue eyed glare will melt into that dust-kissed stare, and I shall touch your ginger hair, with no one there, upon the stair.
One day, father, I won't care.
The Symphony of The Deaf'There is no such thing as a true love story,' sighed the girl, 'There is only tragedy or farce.'
Her friend looked up sceptically, 'You've been reading too much Shakespeare,' he said.
'No...' she murmured, 'I've been watching too much of the real world.'
The boy stood up, and began to pace, 'Reality is a lie, it's an overly used and neglected cliché of a half truth. To find the lovers you so clearly seek, you have to turn to something more obscure...'
It was the girl's turn to look doubting, 'More obscure...?'
'More obscure,' pointed out the boy, 'But more true. Look at the sea and the sky, they have never been parted. Every day they mirror each other's emotions from speckled pink innocence to a bloody red lustfulness. The two of them are locked in a continual embrace... have you ever seen a more well suited couple?'
'And yet they have such spiteful, growling arguments,' the girl fiercely objected, 'The sea lashes out and abu
I Thought Even the Bones Would Do Oh daddy, daddy, quite contrary, mirror dust on shattered glass. Old boxes stacked in the attic and a bee hive left to rot. You never were there, really, were you? Alone, you left me when I was young and wrong, and below the floorboards I fled to meet you.
But were you there? No, you were not there, not with a blue eyed stare or otherwise. In the darkness you allowed me to die, oh yes, they dragged me from that unbreakable depth but still, the true death lurked in living and life.
Daddy, oh daddy, you scratched out my heart and lay there instead a fistful of false pretences. Oh daddy, oh daddy, concrete seals my mind and all my inspiration swims in your eyes and old humming words.
Don't tell me what you've done. Don't whisper in my ear where you've gone. Don't eat at hope with wordless lookalikes and hawk-sharp eyes.
But I love you. I despise the false memory of you. I may well be.... I may well let you kill me.
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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