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Buckley's Chance_Level 3On the whole, I hadn't expected it get this organized. Generally, when I had crazy ideas like this, aided and buffed by a friend or not, it blew over in a couple of hours, often because I'd completed it. This was a larger undertaking than seeing if I could write a random insult generator. That was a solo job, for one, unless you were really ambitious or really slow.
Now I was sitting at the kitchen table with darker bags under my eyes, clutching a cup of coffee and looking around at the people that I mostly didn't know. The coffee reminded me that Jussi hadn't come around, which didn't give me the prim trickle of haha-so-there that I would have anticipated.
The kid with the red and white Mario mushroom on the chest of his hoodie seemed to be used to late nights, and the really young kid with awesome hair had obviously gone to bed at a reasonable hour and woken up at an equally reasonable houralthough judging by the grayness of his compl
Buckley's Chance_Level 2I was the only person in the world who could wake up with a hangover and still pass a certification test. Some might have called it arrogant to anticipate victory before I'd even left the house, but I really wanted to celebrate with someone I actually liked, so I had called Riley as soon as I'd kicked Jussi out of my house. She was a little strange, but in that fascinating way that made you want her to stick around instead of the opposite.
Not many people struck me that way. It seemed the kind of thing I should take advantage of when I could. Which was why I was standing naked in front of my closet and trying to decide between the two clean shirts I had that I would actually wear when Gran was not visiting.
Of course, I could go without one, but most places forced shirts on people, even the more disreputable bars. It took a lot of driving to find any of those anyway. I scratched my stomach and smiled down at myself.
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.
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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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