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Array ( [sid] => 99428 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => In Working Order [time] => 2005-06-27 19:12:57 [hometext] => about going from nothing to something, and the confusion that is involved. [bodytext] => Looking for something to connect me to thoughts, wondering, coreering to the left of my highway to the lost dreams of youth and innocense.
Home is where you hang yourself and i've been left swinging too long.
Dripping my sweat and blood onto the floor below me.
Just waiting for you to come.
Call me into gardens of purity.
bitter goodbyes resound in my ears, ringing for days on end.
I sing them out in hope of deafening them enough to let me go.
Let me out of their hold.
The door locks.
The bolt has been shot.
And there's no way it's going to be opened again.
Darling, little girl.
Sit down and think for a while.
Don't run, don't hide.
Nothing ever been alright.
Tokens scattered at your feet.
Boots trodded in dirt.
Where have you been?
Blink and die.
Everytime you say his name.
It's too late for his heart to be ressurected.
You broken him and killed him too many times.
He's empty within.
Letting you know.
Just to scatter petals on your breasts.
And every soft note is scraping on your skin.
Gets trapped under fingernails.
Becomes dirt onto your boots.
To be trodded down.
Like faith and hope.
Everything you lack in your moth life.
Flames seem to beckon you to flutter nearer and you can't seem to resist.
Deadened.
Awaken but not alive.
Still swinging.
Still catching flies.
In cobwebs of black lace sleeves.

[comments] => 1 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 48 [informant] => harlot20 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )

In Working Order

Contributed by harlot20 on Monday, 27th June 2005 @ 07:12:57 PM in AEST
Topic: EmotionalPoetry

Looking for something to connect me to thoughts, wondering, coreering to the left of my highway to the lost dreams of youth and innocense.
Home is where you hang yourself and i've been left swinging too long.
Dripping my sweat and blood onto the floor below me.
Just waiting for you to come.
Call me into gardens of purity.
bitter goodbyes resound in my ears, ringing for days on end.
I sing them out in hope of deafening them enough to let me go.
Let me out of their hold.
The door locks.
The bolt has been shot.
And there's no way it's going to be opened again.
Darling, little girl.
Sit down and think for a while.
Don't run, don't hide.
Nothing ever been alright.
Tokens scattered at your feet.
Boots trodded in dirt.
Where have you been?
Blink and die.
Everytime you say his name.
It's too late for his heart to be ressurected.
You broken him and killed him too many times.
He's empty within.
Letting you know.
Just to scatter petals on your breasts.
And every soft note is scraping on your skin.
Gets trapped under fingernails.
Becomes dirt onto your boots.
To be trodded down.
Like faith and hope.
Everything you lack in your moth life.
Flames seem to beckon you to flutter nearer and you can't seem to resist.
Deadened.
Awaken but not alive.
Still swinging.
Still catching flies.
In cobwebs of black lace sleeves.

Copyright © harlot20 ... [ 2005-06-27 19:12:57]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: In Working Order (User Rating: 1 )
by deathdrop on Wednesday, 29th June 2005 @ 03:37:07 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

wow!
another eye opener!
i'm speechless!

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