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Array
(
[sid] => 87203
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Lying awake at night
[time] => 2005-03-11 17:16:25
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Lying awake at night, there is a brief jolt of relief, as the intruder freezes, who once was a lonely man that spoke in rambles, who cleared the edge off with heat and chemicals, and who now, on his last whim, falters, to the point of spite and infamy, echoing the voice of gods and godesses slumbering in the mist of humanity's imagination. There is imagination in his eyes. Maybe that is why he is the intruder, because those who possess the unknown potential of human possibilities are always denied, rejected, thrown down in the eyes of others, reduced to the level of rats, in that their only purpose is to fuel your purpose, to hunt, to kill that which confronts what is true, which stands at your feet and pokes at the bruise, that you thought, too ordinary to cover up, that you neglected in order to serve your goods----or rather your lies that you dress in million dollar molds. And foolishly, you believe that you are fooling everyone. But you are not fooling him. The intruder, he who stands naked before the judge, who does not flinch, but winks in the blind light, open, who is willing to die at every moment, who holds the fire in his eyes that burns through you, because all of your lies are ashes now, and the last crumb left of your real self is fear, the birthplace of deciet, of your indignation, of the last insufferable breath in your lungs, and on your last gasp, you will know that it is not him who has frozen, but you, because any last bit of authenticity left in you has been swept under the rug to decay in time, and you are left paralyzed, regretting the instant that you chose to turn away from that which you knew to be true. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 250 [topic] => 43 [informant] => zenmind [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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