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Array
(
[sid] => 68838
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Casting Call
[time] => 2004-10-25 18:19:42
[hometext] => ......when you cannot have what you need......you'll take that call.........
[bodytext] => The rage within her, it has been born no way to fight it off inside herself, she is clearly torn her mind has been sent aloft. She aches to have the freedom tied binds to set her free the carousel stopped in the wrong kingdom clouded, she no longer sees. The more she reads, the more she's confused riddled frustrations all the day awakened passions that were infused made her empty once they went away. The stage was set, the scene enthralled but she's lost now and so afraid she lands crumpled from the winded fall a touch now....is at once forbade. The hand held out and slapped on down pierce-like screams to muffle in the dark stumbling, she wears the tarnished crown for siren's whim, she is a lark. She's heated up and simmering a melting pot of desire on display her melancholy in the backdrop is lingering no presence commands or demands her to stay. She admits to being an errant child a half a dozen more labels would fit on cue she wearies of the mentalities with hands so mild intensity is definitely lacking its' due. She's asked for she's wanted risky efforts in and of themselves of that she'll always be haunted for you don't get what you need, you just get shelved. Now, she's left with the question of her lifeline how to nurture herself back to "there" siren is gonna let her feel so divine showing derring-do with narry a care. She'll never pass the test of solitude just to prance around on their side she can no longer fathom that perfect mood it went to the forest with the little girl to hide. With all the road blocks her stairways are broken a price, with time, one learns to pay her release becomes elusive and unspoken no strangers' ministrations could ever betray. Her submission surrenders to no one but her body to many or few her mind slowly dies and begs to be done as tainted juices in her will stew. Party favor for the wicked masses mocked affections are her price the ticking erases or bypasses any thoughts she might have had twice. Her body is their golden temple tricks done for every whim but all they take is just a sample leaving her alone out on that limb. She'll not ever ask for what she wants again just be grateful for what she gets and if next to nil is all she gets from them then she's gonna ante up her bets. Curse the need that fuels her soul for she cannot see her way she'll find her rhythm and her roll live her nights and sleep her day. She'll step down from her pedastal high a siren in need of her fix red lip-sticked and rouged as she casts her die of this plan no one can nix. She lays spread-eagled and wanton no preganant mind to rattle her loose no one left for her to count on as she feels the penetration of the noose. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 160 [topic] => 48 [informant] => jaeann [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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