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Array
(
[sid] => 106596
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Chained freedom
[time] => 2005-09-27 12:56:00
[hometext] => || Again, not a rhyming poem. Hint: My eyes are blue, there is a connection there with the wedding dress... ||
[bodytext] => Sew my eyes - so I can't see the needle. Look out. Time goes backwards before dementia sets in. Child runs out. She looks like me. Look at her eyes. They're real. They are burgundy. How odd? How ... normal? I have no idea. Walls close in as the room gets Bigger. Accents switch places and countries no longer exist. The shoes lay out-on the ceiling ... waiting. Waiting to cover my hands with imaginary delight. Time ... come back. Stop. Don't keep going. I don't want to see the future yet. Where are we? A funeral? A funeral ... There are few people laughing and in elegant gowns. Keep going. Look forward. A burgundy casket - made just for me. Laugh. Laugh all you want. I am not here. My corpse is backwards ... Does no one notice? Shouldn't that be fixed? Frames are weeping because their insides don't exist. No photographs of me alive - only photographs of my dead parts. My therapists - front row. Smoking candy cigars in their plastic suits. I'm in a blue wedding dress and my eyes are white. My vision turns black and yet ... ... I can see everything clearly. This is who I am. A corpse drowning in unattainable happiness. A thing only for the worms to thrive on. Eat on, maggots ... ... The wedding dress is for rent. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 163 [topic] => 73 [informant] => Desolated_Denial [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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