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Array
(
[sid] => 154239
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Prison Without Bars
[time] => 2009-10-19 17:20:37
[hometext] => The Life of a drug addict
[bodytext] => You lie in bed, you tremble and sweat. It's your very existence you've come to regret. You knew the result, you knew the stakes; every joint hurts, your whole body aches. Your breathing is heavy, you're coughing and weazing, your stomach's in a knot and you feel like you're freezing. You feel like you're dyeing, your whole body is soar. One thing is for sure: You're a prisoner of war. Your emotions run high, the fear is so real. You don't have enough strength, not even to cry. You have no money, to cure this fit. You have nothing to trade, for just one more hit. You need it so bad, as you pray for another. You'd do whatever it takes, you'd even sell your mother. It's taken control over your useless life. It plays many roles, at times, it's even your wife. It has no conscience, it knows no ends. It's made you give up on your family, and turn your back on your friends. It's the best friend you've ever known. It made you believe lies, that your never alone. The love left your heart, there's no life in your eyes, you lay here trembling, this is your very own demise. You made it an oath, to always be true. You're hopelessly addicted to what it does for you. ************** So, here you are, lyeing in bed, dope had deserted you, and left you for dead. Your mind is aching, you're seeing stars, you're now held captive in a prison without bars. The saddest part is, you know it won't end. The very next day, you'll do it again. Come hail or snow, sunshine or rain, you'll find yourself once again putting a hole in your vein. With each new hit, death comes on slow, but the human part of you, died long ago. you used to get off on it, it was such a blast; but with every hit now, you pray it's your last. Your habit is hungry, and it wants to be fed; lying in agony, you wish you were dead. You were foretold in the future, but you didn't heed it, now, all you can do is wonder, 'where's death when I need it?' [comments] => 4 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 75 [informant] => ThomasWPeterson [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished )
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