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Leafy fingernails of the citytrees hug
the late afternoon light and dance to their own music,
leaving a blurry photograph on the wall behind them:
Reminder of when the day we met in tenth grade
We made a horror movie; I was murdered
You rubbed ketchup blood on my pubescent torso
that genetic metabolism allowed ghosts of muscles to live on;
I used a drill, as a prop
You screamed, you had problems with your contact lenses.
We had the same belt but different.
You flirted and played video games with me.
And the time much later you bitched me out, and I was taken aback
because you completely understood my game and its selfishness.
And when you were on acid, and it was kind of scary I admit,
but you knew what you were doing,
With "ITS LICKABLE AND NOT A STAMP" hints
How I knew that you cut yourself,
which made me want to try it;
but I was too afraid
And how you kiss with a lot,
and the taste of cigarettes,
and how that night still seems strange
How we used to talk at orange hou
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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