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Array
(
[sid] => 124863
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Personal Space
[time] => 2006-08-24 18:45:08
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => It has the ability to heal itself, with a little help. All that I ask for, is with someone to whom I can talk. Listening is optional, for ears play favorites to words, that make them tingle until they hurt. Eyes on center, as to not miss one single breathe escape these lips. As the chords in the boxed throat strum an elongated hiss. This, is the chance, waiting for an opportunity to advance, seized and locked in a fist of decadence. Relevance is subjective, as romance is injected, into dreams once rejected, now accepted, once detested, now admired and protected. With the help of the almighty, convictions, today will be the day, forever referred to as, the day the apprehensions died away. As change can only come from within. Each attempt brings, rights and wrongs, sings promises, and touchy love songs. Seems like a waste, living a low quality life, where (everything) is in constant jeopardy, so that the pursuit of pleasure can rise, I would spend eternity, rather then sacrifice my right, rather then shut my eyes, to fresh air, and adjustable warmth at night. An oath would be appropriate, had they not been broken countless times before. Instead, I offer my condolences to a disaster preventable with force. Impulse, with impetus, was granted, access remained withstanding, permission was confiscated, from those seeking restitution for their accidents. On a collision course with something monstrous, horrendous, not unlike, those with pretentious bites. __________ _______ [comments] => 1 [counter] => 151 [topic] => 43 [informant] => Mangos [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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