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Array
(
[sid] => 136583
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Quiescence
[time] => 2007-08-08 15:47:47
[hometext] => qui-ES'-cence -- 1. Being quiet, still, at rest, inactive 2. a state of tranquil repose
[bodytext] => A lowly corpse is being kicked down again Beaten down deadly, down to the ground Mouth and jaw not functioning, unable to use them It feels the artificialness inside itself, no refuge, screams have no sound The bellow from the bottom of its' lungs never reaching another's ears Shaved off is the attention it can scrounge, the world blatantly oblivious Its' soulless pain unknown, though unveiled, and clear to see Hollow, spineless, head brainless, hoping for any cell, it waits and allows the discomfort in. Its' ringing vocal chords attempt again, no avail, no conceivable tone even sparked As its' acid tongue curls, it listens for a witness To tell the whole story Its' foiled body not willing Lavish cars run by It's back fractured, turns to face nothing, a scenery of lights and tall buildings and structures Neon fills its' sorry bloodied eyes, outstretched arms trembling, there's no telling what's next, what to expect. Shaking, nervous, steeped in fearful spasms Torn and ugly, even the bugs crawl 'round Its' stomach falling into little specks Dissipating into its' veins. Every snake and foul-crafted creature establishes a bond with this body, fruit and books piled up behind it, still in an environment. Robbed of fortune, letting the seconds pass, farther from literal death Eyelids flutter to freeze, wants to sigh, exhale, inhale, only to find no liberal breath Ankles crossed, fingernails dug deeply, still, no pain has emerged, no hurt felt and all its' nerves are down, irrationally hiding, it feels almost hostage. Frailly it lifts an arm and tugs something, a hair, a leg, nothing to serge through, there's only numbness. Epic ads and jewels and stones stay in place, an interesting angle. There seems to be no resurrection, no salvation from the sky Nothing to hope for, place faith in, but its' somewhat excited in that thought. The idea of nothing more. Though delicate on the filthy street, its' mouth curls, and grins. Slowly, it lifts each ligament, places leg, leg vertical arm, arm horizontal, is flat now. Maintaining this posture, it gracefully straightens its' frame and releases any restraint, finally feels the burn of every blister the dust in its' eyes sparkling, sleepy evidence. Each burn made on itself is finally wrought to nerves, pain becoming less and less surreal. [A pleasant expression is still displayed, through this.] As the truth is finally known: There is nothing to promote you higher, it finally knows. 'No true salvation exists', are its' last thoughts, the truest thought ever thought Its' eyes wider than ever, it lets go of everything once grasped and heard and Death, the real end, is brought [comments] => 1 [counter] => 165 [topic] => 73 [informant] => sally-heart-jack [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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