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Le MoulinThe mill was a two century-old structure that housed the lives of seven generations of the Petite family. It sat on the Tarn River, just outside the peaceful village of Sainte-Enimie. The wood that made up the seemingly ancient structure was old and decaying, like I. Planks of wood would often break off the walls, the ceiling, and even the watermill itself. Every day I feared that one of the planks would hit me, but they never did. I never knew why they never did.
Prior to my time in the Petite mill, I had lived a life void of religion. My parents were both devote to their religion, and I was obligated to join them for mass every Sunday. Surrounded by stain glass windows and the silence of those kneeling and praying around me, I would do the same. However, with not many thoughts in my mind to God, it was really out of obligation that I along with everyone. These actions were meaningless.
When I started to live on my own, I dropped any remnant that was left of religion in my life - I di
StarStar above that shines so bright
Won’t you give me your sweet light?
You are so far away above the sky
Yet you are so close to my sad eye
Tie me to my waist and pull me there
I’ll leave all my friends, I don’t care
Give me the happiness I’ve always deserved
Give me the happiness I’ve always preserved
Yes you’re dead and that’s a shame
I didn’t even get to know your name
But pull me up and let me smile
And let me stay, for a little while
David's Tea employee vs. the WorldSure, most of the time they beat you to the punch. But once in a while you manage to get in there and shout it out before they're done...
"Can i quickly buy a cup of tea??".
The woman looks at me with her lazy eyes. Obviously wanting to go home, she slowly goes back behind the counter. Forgetting that a polite employee is supposed to respond to such a question,, she quickly looks up and says "Sure" with no genuine kindness whatsoever. I do not blame the girl. She probably had a shitty day at work, and wanted to get the hell out of her place of work.
"Sorry", I say with complete sympathy.
"Oh don't even worry about it."
She sends a fake smile. The lack of squint under her beautiful green eyes would make it obvious to anyone. I walk up to the counter and scan the wide selection of teas displayed. I dare not ask her what she recommends. She looks at her watch.
"Okay", you say in your head, "You're here for tea, not to sympathize. Do I want want white? Or black? Maybe oolong will do
Seven women sat in a circle'Seven women sat in a circle. One felt the wind blowing. Another...'
3: Two? What are you so sad about?
5: I don't think she's sad, my dear Three. She's......
7: Oh, One. Always on the pleasure. Always searching enlightenment through pleasure. Sixty-nine has really had an influence on you.
2: Oh my.....
4: Two? Can you tell us what is bringing about such pleasure?
6: It's not pleasure! You dirty girl! It's...
*Everyone is silent*
2: Oh...my. Oh my. I am so sorry. I don't know what went over me! I just had the most wonderful feeling in the world.
1: You were thinking about Twenty-Three weren't you...hah
2: No! No! I was not thinking. But I was feeling. I felt an invisible cold force pressed against me. It was delightful!
5: Invisible cold force? My dear, we have another word for sudden physical pleasure in this circle...
2: No! It wasn't that! It felt as if every pore on my face had opened by this...force... and had released a chilling vibe!
3: Oh m
BeckyToothpick in her mouth, sunglasses covering a large portion of her freckled face, Becky Daunt knew exactly what she was going to do once she woke up this fine morning. Maybe it was the fact that it cut down a surprising amount of daily expenses, or maybe it was because of the sheer thrill that it brought her; stealing toilet paper was a hidden joy of Becky's, and this morning will be the morning to do it. Ryerson University made it so simple and easy; it would be a shame if it weren't shamefully stolen. And the rolls! They lasted for weeks!
Becky entered her destination, Balzac's Cafe (located in the Image Arts building), and went straight towards the ladies washroom without breaking stride.
It was full of women. Becky's heart periodically dropped. She had never seen this many women in the washroom before. There were almost 10 women. She took a deep breath. It was a good thing. It was a good thing because it would be more difficult to hear her theft occurring over the chatter. There we
What's In The Box?*Enter. Examines self. Very pleased.*
Pride: Good warm morning, ladies and gentlemen. *Looks around at them* What are we all staring at? *Notices box* A box!
Envy: Before you so joyfully strolled in with your entire swagger, yes, we were examining a box.
Pride: A swagger greater than most, I might say! You see, my quality of fineness-
Wrath: Oh shut up, will you?!? I’m sick and tired of you strolling in everyday, glorifying yourself to the point of no return.
Greed: Oh calm down. There are more important things at hand. What is in the box! It could be money. A few gold bars. (Pause) You know, how about I take it home and see what’s in there. It could be…uh…dangerous….
Lust: *Staring at Greed* Hmm, you have a point. There may be something dangerous in there...*looks at box* in there….How about we go home together and see what’s inside?
Greed: *Still looking at box* Yes…yes let us see what is inside. *Looks at Sloth* Excus
lost my voice.I wrote "I love you"
in the sand at the beach.
The tide swallowed the words
and drowned them
before I could speak.
HauntedI see her there with
Coal dust carved
Into the icy skin
Under her eyes,
And on her lips
Dance a chorus
Of bitter lies.
A skeletal hand of smoke
Claws at my neck
Until I bleed;
She tells me that the pain
Is just what I need.
And her blood
Zooms in her veins
Like speeding cars.
She looks at me
At what I am.
She’s a snake,
In the guise
Of a lamb.
‘What happened to us?’
Of what I used to be.
‘I may be you,
But you are not me.’
The sun comes up:
Yesterday is gone
But see it this way;
The past is part of the future
But the future isn’t the past.
You choose which bits go,
You choose which bits last.
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
Loving A Guy Who Cannot Love Himself.Firstly, tell him that he doesn't necessarily need to be the “strongest” man in the world,
that if he cries, you won't look down on him for it,
that you won't call him weak.
Tell him that he doesn't have to like sports, or fishing, or football, or any of the “mainstream” things that boys are “supposed” to like.
Let him know that liking art, or dancing, or singing or acting doesn't make him gay, doesn’t make him any less of a man, it just makes him who he is.
A human being.
And for goodness sakes, tell him that blue does not have to be his favorite color, than he can indulge in pink, or purple or even magenta!
And to the girl who take on the task, remember please, that it is not always the Knight who saves the Princess.
No, this time, the Princess may need to save the Knight.
Do not pour your problems onto him, rather, balance each other out.
Be a shoulder to cry on. A friend to be there. A love that never leaves.
Perhaps more than often,
You Ever Felt ItHave you ever felt it?
When you lay there broken
And feel yourself so guilty
Eyes gushing red
And you want to sleep in a coma
Your brain swelling with thoughts
At the same time empty with nothing
When you can't suit yourself
And see yourself a place among the demons
that moment when you control your life
The moment when you choose between life and death
And then you yourself can decide either way
It's when you're on the edge
And want someone to pull you back before you make another step
A hook, to rip all the insanity out of your body
And suck all the madness that is growing black dead trees
Have you ever felt it, have you known depression
Did you ever seek a source of help, and did you ever find it
I Fell In love Inside of a DreamI fell in love,
inside of a dream.
And woke up,
with a broken heart.
But it wasn't my heart,
that was broken.
It was his,
and I'll never see him again.
That long haired, pale skin,
blue eyed boy, will forever remain,
a figment of my imagination.
So close, yet so far away.
And I will never be able to apologize,
for my mistake.
ShatteredIf I found you, on your knees,
trying desperately to collect the shattered pieces of your heart-
I would kneel beside you and help you pick them up.
I would not cast a blind eye,
and pretend I had not seen you.
If I saw that your hands had been cut,
by the very shards of hope you were trying so hard to gather-
I would take your hands in mine, and hold them until the pain subsided.
Then I would kiss every wound- no matter how big or how small,
until I was sure you would be able to use your hands again.
If you were crying from the fear that you'd never be able to pick up everything,
I would hold you until your tears stopped, and I would comfort you with gentle words.
But I would not lie to you- I would never lie.
The heart is a frail thing- once shattered, it can never be fully repaired.
Parts will remain missing, and the mended hope will always bear cracks.
If we found that we'd gathered all that we were able,
and that there were a fine powder remaining of what we could not collect.
...You struck a chord in my soul.
Now it rings in my ears,
sweet melody that deafens
screams louder now can't hear it's own
a poem about too many people and too much heart.you were my
conclusion- the last paragraph
and the last thing
i got to say.
i loved you and i
took words from
between my eyelashes and i
put them down for
you, i took you apart
a million times
in my mind and always put you
and i drew
you, soft and silhouetted
window, the pane
foggy and i thought of you
in the darkest of
times, because i kept telling myself
that you were the
light (like you
i know that i am just
a girl with
too much heart and
too weak of ribs; but
i was hoping
that you would help the foxes
hunt the hounds, just for
The MoveThey all say to live in the moment
They all say to look forward to the future
But no one ever says to live in the past.
I suppose they have a good reason not to
The past is a place you were once in
And will never be in again.
The past is a place where poor souls go to find comfort
These poor souls find that their souls become poorer
Once they return to their poor present.
They are then left with a feeling of longing
A feeling of longing that nothing can satisfy
Nothing, other than their past.
I live in my past.
I gently swim in the contents of my mind
I swim in a place where I am engulfed by a sea of memories
Memories that give me feeling I once felt
Feelings I cannot feel today.
I love being in that sea.
I feel I belong in that sea.
I do not swim for long, though.
I wake up, far away from where I was a moment ago
My feelings of bliss are quickly replaced with depression
A depression brought from hopeless longing
And a feeling of misplacement.
The present is not something I can escape
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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