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All Deviations
All Deviations


Ugly

I'm writing in pen again, letting ink soak slowly and blur into paper
    ,little things - simple and blurred in meaning
    telling the Mormon at my door to get the fuck out of my face
        Who gave Mormons the right to go door to door?
        And I talked to him for 2 hours, unlike the Baptist
        ;I kicked him out in 3 minutes. And I AM ugly,
    And I still haven't changed. And I still believe.
Although I delivered a brand new bible to a house, and heard
        (through the window, a teenaged moan) - ecstasy -
        "Fuck me harder, fuck me harder."
And yet, true love waits…and adolescence does not, and adulthood
    .And I'm alone, and I went to the next house - it was empty.
Fresh grass clippings to blur sidewalk lines and let me linger a moment
    wondering if I could stand on something so severed,
        so separated from existence, as a blanket of grass
        sliced as so many severed limbs to dry and decay.

My fingertips bleed sometimes, and it soaks slowly into my skin
    ,giving me the color of sunsets and the taste of iron
        to a tongue desperate enough to find itself on me
        in that half-light, end-of-the-world, type of sanctity.
Everyone could see right though me, and if they can still
        ,I have forgotten
    and light drops fall onto my hand from an untainted sky
    in simple reverence to the ugliness that wrapped itself around
        tiny bits of the world, and huge chunks of existence.

I'm not so random, so disjointed, as life would have you believe,
    but I'm ugly. And that's why I'm here,
        And it's why you're here, and its silent guitar
        And its easy. And its ugly…and I said "go-away"

But I'm ugly, and unsupported. Passion and vision worth the stamp price
        to mail someone who doesn't have a life to lead
        and responsibilities of their own, and pretty little lives
    And let it stand unsent, uncancelled until the day
        ,that simple day, when life realizes one simple universal

Ugly.

,bleeding pens and soaking paper in simple drops.
©2006-2008 ~manadrake
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Submitted: September 16, 2006
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Author's Comments

Yea...well, fuck her.
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~LittleMissParasite:iconLittleMissParasite: Sep 16, 2006, 10:47:09 PM
I really like this. I like alot, but i cant really explain why.

--
Art is made by the alone for the alone." ~ Luis Barragán

[link] <---myspace
~manadrake:iconmanadrake: Sep 17, 2006, 10:19:07 AM
Thank you. Don't feel bad though, nobody ever knows what the hell I'm talking about...sometimes people like pieces and sometimes they don't, and nobody knows why...hell I'm not sure I even know why.

--
"Everyone thinks of changing humanity, but no one thinks of changing himself" - Leo Tolstoy
~eataortic:iconeataortic: Sep 17, 2006, 2:27:30 PM
im surprised you catagorised this surrealist
its gd tho i like it a bit emo at times but the repetetive idea works in quite an agressive manner
to stop appearing too pitying.

--
i want to kill god and posess the cosmos