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Back To The Drawing BoardWhat I need now is not a distraction
Ideas with traction
These worlds I created, they’re stagnant
I’ve failed and it kills me
My heart’s getting restless
My mind’s getting sick
Broken fingernails, bloodstains,
Just seeing what sticks
I know I’m not important
Just another disease
Just a fat splat of carbon
In the vast human seas
Used to think I was special
I thought I could achieve
Something this world might need
But it all fell apart again
It all went ignored
“So we meet again, my old friend”
says the drawing board
Over and over
We search through the factual
For something spectacular
Even if it is nothing but the hopeful flicker
That as my days grow shorter and my mind gets sicker
I might have found something
Just one thing
Just ONE thing
Through all of this hunting
The Night Prince - Chapter 30Chapter Thirty
In Which Lucia And Thomas Are Set Free From Prison
The sound filled the dank air of the jail, flooding down the hallway and rushing into the cell. Lucia was quite sure she heard two distinct sets of footprints. William the jailer caused the same heavy footfalls as before. Along with his steps came the sound of the metal keys, knocking together like ominous wind chimes. However, when Lucia listened closely, she heard a second set of lighter footsteps following William an instant later. They seemed to have the weight of a man yet the stealth of a cat. The sounds’ echoing off the stone walls made it difficult to determine much else.
The steps fell silent as William marched into view and stopped in front of their jail cell. His burlap clothing bore no pattern, and yet it appeared to be striped when Lucia looked at him through the iron bars. William stood there a moment, lazily staring at his prisoners. He abs
The Night Prince - Chapter 29Chapter Twenty Nine
In Which Lucia Learns Something Interesting From Thomas
The cold, hard jail cell offered little but silence. Through the iron bars, Lucia stared morosely at the wall opposite the cell. The sun, which had previously been visible through the thin slits that stood in for windows, had since arched out of view. As she guessed at the late hour, a knot formed in Lucia’s stomach. Poor John might think she had run off for good. Or, worse, Claudette might think she was lazing around idly somewhere, and would take it out on John and maybe even poor Margaret.
Margaret. Was anyone tending to her? If it was up to John to take care of the mansion itself, he could not possibly have time to talk to Margaret or bring her tea or fix her blankets. Lucia thought back to John’s previous defiance of Claudette’s demands and wondered if there would be anything but fighting happening in the mansion at all.
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
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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