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Subjective RealitySubjective Reality
Social solitude, vindictive sanctuary.
Comparisons of hopes and dreams are sold,
are lost, traded away.
A conflict without confrontation.
Reinforcing the perception of this
controversial virtuality, regarded as restricted.
What are you doing here?
What rights do you have?
To judge, without official permission,
the choices that are made,
that I make.
The questions we ask are pondered upon,
as time slows down,
and philosophers wander on.
To see what we want to see,
an illusion, a lie,
inflicted upon ourselves;
Merciless thoughts and images,
pills and albino white rabbits,
lands of imaginations and wonders;
An escape from reality,
is reality of the escape.
Winter AbyssWinter Abyss
A blinding vision of white,
all around, all I can see.
This world of Abyss, I can never leave.
The air around is deaths touch;
A jokers laugh, slicing through the wind.
The chance to leave, the opportunities
have escaped my grasp and left me here.
The glittering gold is only white,
The sky above; at distances height,
is the only change of colour, in this plane of white.
I only need one chance to review,
the options I would then choose
would all be but a slow virtue.
Damned is the philosophy; What good is it now?
It fails to prove my defence in this time of need,
Why should I keep it alive, What good is it doing me?
An ace, a jack, the joker card.
A game of time, to pass the age,
to judge reality, to assess the risk.
Jokers laugh, my vision blurred.
Say what you will now,
and risk losing it to the wind,
for its mockery will be the only thing
leaving my body for the icy wind.
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