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The Last MuffinThe Last Muffin
The kitchen light flickers and buzzes
Threatening to cast the apartment into darkness
Or at least, a deeper darkness, for even with the dying light
It was always full of shadow.
On a sticky off-white counter top there sits a plastic box
Three rows, four columns, twelve spots in all,
Each belonging to a muffin.
Soft as down and full of warmth and sweetness,
They fill my mouth like the Holy Spirit
And bring good tidings of joy with every blueberry bite.
A wonderful way to start a morning,
As if I had my whole life ahead of me.
As if there was nothing bad in all the world
And nothing that could hurt anyone.
Now the box is empty
Gaping open like a pharaoh's tomb,
Long since ransacked for its gold.
Each space desolate, a little plastic womb
Barren of children
Of sweet, sweet children that bring joy to a home
Save for one.
It is the remainder
The sole survivor
The star seen through the clouds
On a dark and stormy night.
Stale but magnificent it gleams
Like an oversized gem on
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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