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The Tortured Artist at Work"Woe is I!" I solemnly cry as glob Crisco onto my canvas.
It stains my midnight nails, bits flying into my emo sweep.
Oh, to be an artist in a world so full of pedestrian clichés!
Can no one understand why or how I emote? Can they not hear what I say?
I type these words into my blog, on a site where no one agrees.
They say, "Get a job you spineless sponge!" So, I make a new piece.
A piece where I portray mankind as fleas.
Fleas in the abstract that is the fur of society's dog, moving in the inky cosmos of my
Abysmal life. I sob bitterly, and add spray paint to my work, commenting on the gritty urban
Slums that flank my parent's 20,000 a month penthouse. My posh prison.
Yes, it is a dismal fate, to be the messenger of the Muses.
The lowly cretins, the dregs of Abercrombie and Myspace cannot hear my lamentations.
There! It is done, my newest creation, my darling!
The slop upon it is not of Crisco and Elmer's glue no there is more there is feeling, hatred, lust, passion, em
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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