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Sinew by SecondLet me tell you a secret
I will be my own death.
And so will you.
We don't even need something sharp to do it.
Don't need a gun
Don't need pills
Or even a fire extinguisher.
(I heard about a man once
I guess he heard "extinguish," and thought,
it might apply to life as well.)
We don't need
I'll throw away
Faster than you can blink
I'm just that good.
Maybe you're better.
I wouldn't know.
I've stared at this glowing box
For almost an eternity.
(I don't kill time.
I massacre it.
Rip it apart,
Let me tell you something
Time is worthless.
I know it.
I know it, because
People are greedy
But they'd throw away months
Before they'd give away a penny.
Pearls make SwineWherever so I make my home, a hurricane arrives.
The words you come to know as truth, another soon contrives.
It takes only an arguement to turn a wise man dumb.
It takes only a heart-to-heart to turn an empath numb.
I'm tired of singing to the blind, for deaf they soon become.
Wherever so I cast my pearls, the men there become swine.
Is it a spreading epidemic, or some greater fault of mine?
I'm auctioning my soul to all the destitute, in vain.
If you give the people freedom, they will gladly take on chains.
The god oft praised will surely die, and dead he will remain
AvaritiaThis ceaseless quest for everything
Is hopeless, Fruitless,
It blinds us to the wealth of things
already in our hands.
This greed, this lust insatiable
How else can we exploit the bless'ed
ground on which we stand?
Our elegy is written
With our negligent demands.
Memento Moriwe all must leave this mortal coil
return as clay to barren soil.
all we are is flesh and bone
given life to walk alone.
but dry your tears and fake a smile
make that lonely walk worthwhile.
there won't be time to say goodbye.
all shall die.
Nothing to ShowThe characters in history seem insubstantial ghosts.
Their beings captured in old film and hollow words, at most.
Yet, all that stands between us is perspective and the ground,
and Time, the silent, ruthless, host to which our souls are bound.
It turns a pleasant stroll into a desperate, cut-throat race.
It spells a damning elegy in new lines on my face.
How long until those traces form a map of decades passed?
How many hours to waste before I wile away my last?
I'm too old for the kids menu and far too old for toys.
When yesterday I crawled, I must tomorrow walk with poise.
What's this about working? I was a child yesterday.
When did I get so jaded , tall and lost? I cannot say.
What's left in my wake? I see but shadows and closed doors,
abandoned drafts to show for dreams and scars to show for sores.
If I cut my losses, would I be the worse for wear?
I don't know where I'm going, but too soon, I'll end up there.
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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