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Array
(
[sid] => 148060
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Light Goes Both Ways at the End of the Tunnel
[time] => 2009-02-19 21:50:04
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Sure, race the lines growing from the roadsides; you'll go nowhere. This night is white painted squares tracing back fast behind, like paper animations--aren't you just a perfect outline of lead. Aren't you just this dead, dusty angel riding shotgun; going somewhere not safe, not to the home you knew. That place just went past and you saw the eviction. No home for your eyes-- just the road with the night. The paper trail stops at the next red light. He smiles, face hidden like crossed-out words. They'll give an answer, maybe a meal like the feel of his tender hands. Let him touch you, caress under the skin those scars of love. He is the one that drives your gray across the page; draws his name along the lines of the day. Be the hand that stabs like a sword. The eye not mighty to the pen deflates like a tire to the curb. Aren't you just an evict victim. Aren't you just the devil who lived off emissions. You saw the papers fall and there was your name, caught in the exhausting reports, another case file defiled. There was the life on the line, your own lie he took away, gone; sticking to the streets. There was the home never seen being screened by the windows. Now, the rejection passes like the oncoming brights; they'll go everywhere. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 193 [topic] => 43 [informant] => skyhawk432 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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