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Array
(
[sid] => 173451
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => letter from the hopeless prole
[time] => 2012-07-25 20:25:03
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => When I die, ***** it, go on, send me to hell. Cuz vice is the cost of pleasure, that ain't found where angels dwell Picture me frolic in heaven with the prudes and goodies can you believe that *****? no more blunts, beers or fat booties. God would even have me on those ten commandments, no sin and no play, just prayer and worship. No more earthly bonds and worries lounging in paradise, what's that worth? I can't do me so ***** eternal life. Early on was taught life's pursuit of profit became a hopeless victim of the punch clock promise. the dreary routine, the mundane motions mama should have spared us both and got a damn abortion. Life just seemed so bright during the days when you were younger grown a little older now I sit forlorn and wonder, I wonder if I died, if anyone would cry, I've affected nothing so I can't imagine why. So should I, jump off a bridge, end all this *********? Put the "9" up to my dome and get this done quick. But wait there's all that red maybe instead I'll skip the mess I see the cabinet to my left. The reapers scythe is sharpened my thread found by the fates So I open up the box and remove the plastic case. I can't continue living on in this pathetic state 3 twists 2 gulps ….. my last headache. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 124 [topic] => 36 [informant] => yeboaheu [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Suicide )
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