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Array
(
[sid] => 168479
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => An Eternity Of Infomercials.
[time] => 2011-11-10 00:04:59
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Have you ever had a dream you just can't wake, a sense of reality that seems a little fake. Walls like paper mache, a simple tear to an outer existence. Time a running illusion... From the first moments of life I have seen everything from a dreamers view. Knowing what the next corner holds, seeing trouble before the day has begun. Like death has past and I am left in my made up hell. One where others suffer and I cry in shame for having hands tied. Could it be that the future is too easy to predict, it could just be glimpses of a logical sight. An open mind with a sense of fright. Broken heart that fears the light. Am I sane in a world that's gone mad? Even that thought makes the voices within laugh in chorus. Are you an illusion of a dying beat, blood fading as dmt takes my final dream with me? Just a drained empty pineal gland? Take me Hades, drown me in the river styx. Give my coin to those who need it more. Throw me with Poseidon, let the fish find safety within my shallow bones. Let the old gods rise, for a new day is always about to break. Sink me with fantasy, let the furture drown in their wake. I use to have the power to believe, I now hold the power to decieve. For body is just a used vessel to worship, left like old gods and faded lost pages. My love is one, my heart it skips for my natures eve. Love has been screamed from every passage of time. Voice gone weak from trying to talk out of turn. I use to cut myself to see the pain. Now the blood wont flow anymore. Trying to gain the attention I seek. I had a vision the other night. The streets were littered with the lame, hands outstretched begging for a grain of rice. Passerbys walked with heads raised high with looks of disgust written on thier face. Mumbles of get a job bounced off the cold city walls. Echoed from empty hearts to bringing the pitch to wake the dead. In the middle of the road stood a young mary with open arms. In one hand she held my soul the other she held a burning fire. In her belly was the symbol of death, grace no more for the weak. Tears filled the streets, as a lonely boat floats down the drain. If you are the dreamer then it is time to wake. Bring that trumpet to thy mouth and blow. For our parents don't care anymore. They are too busy seeking fame and that next sale. Just leaving the TV on for our amusment. Stuck on an eternity of infomercials. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 182 [topic] => 75 [informant] => lostrelic [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished )
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