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Array
(
[sid] => 101835
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Deep Southern Tragedy
[time] => 2005-07-21 20:31:20
[hometext] => my boyfriend is leaving to new orleans for college in august. this is for him.
[bodytext] => Sonnets in hotels and the Bard on the wall above your bed turning your Life's Nightmare into a Midsummer Night's Dream of cat fighting over the Cat-Wok and insisting you're not a model but agreeing complacently that you should be. Late introductions between des contraventions because his mind was in the clouds. Track the year with a Mayan calendar... they're practically perfect. nothing will ever be as perfect as you I hate rice-rockets, but that one flew (who'dduv thunk it?) straight to your rescue. GOD don't let the ball drop... stop counting... stop... STOP! [insert blood-curdling scream here] Thus begins a year of not-so-innocent innocence and the discovery of the definition of emo. The lights of the Drive-In were never quite as beautiful as the night they were out. Illegalities and pink popped collars ensue. Buried alive and dug back up by moles (6.02 x 10²³). WOW time flew, I mean really flew, it's still flying. I wonder if humans will ever travel at the speed of time... that'll probably come after the speed of light. And that woman, she must have a PhD in doling out fear because she is good. Little white bottles don't cure nights in the mountains, but who wants a cure anyways? Pomp & Circumstance... I'm not liking these circumstances... our circumstances... these circumstances... that are already turning my pillow into Nautica paper-mâché. Sunstroke... Sunstroke... Sunstroke Alzheimer's... Alzheimer's... Alzheimer's “Light up, Light up, as if you have a choice” [if you were planning on getting that song stuck in your head today, now would be the ideal time] God, stop, no... I said stop... “Louder, Louder, and we'll run for our lives” ... please just stop... ... I don't wanna be here I wanna rewind I don't wanna be here... I heard time travels in a circle, why can't it turn around here? Midsummer Night's Dream of a Life... this is no romance, this wasn't a comedy, this is a first-class tragedy so step over Juliet, your 15 minutes are up and the spotlight's over here now. This hollow shell's substance has vanished. I'd ask you to find it, but I know where it is. And I think it's getting sick of those Deep Southern Accents. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 174 [topic] => 22 [informant] => Morgan [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )
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