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Array
(
[sid] => 33838
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Relief
[time] => 2004-02-04 16:35:06
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The draft through the cracks Of the plaster I call home. The others are sleeping And I work to stay warm. The scratching of my pen Makes up for the lack of words, And the rattle of the ice cubes Tell me that I'm ready for some more. Smoke escaping from my mouth As I whisper what I wish. Knowing you'll never hear the feelings That I'm holding open at this hour. Doing what I can To clean the habitual air. The candle burning reluctant And my matches are nearly gone. I pour myself another friend. Laugh about the times we've had. Looking forward for when I'll spill my gears... He'll probably be there. The ashtray working hard To uphold her end of the deal. I close my eyes to look for sleep, But only saw you there. I wonder for you even now. Is your slate cleaned by your rest? If you find your sleep, Catch some for me. I'll need it soon. The T.V. transmits comfort Through air and wires. Eyes and ears receivers. I know a little more about nothing. Half empty. Almost time for more. I'd take either drink or life. For both will let me down... I always get let down. I always get let down. I always get let down. I let me get me down... Her perception of me is flawed. I'm always honest. Yet my feelings always lie. To me. Today I think I'll sell myself short. Or rather, build myself up to something. Anything. Maybe fabricate a tale. Anythings better than me. I'll pretend to wake happy, While the sun destroyed my dreams. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 230 [topic] => 43 [informant] => speakeasy [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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