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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 20:43:22 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 33077
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Diary Of An Insomniac
[time] => 2004-01-29 07:20:39
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I sit on my back step and I light a cigarette pulling the smoke into my lungs, I sit and think funny how such a short life, can have so many regrets throwing out more smoke, letting my life shrink the voices scream in my head, but I refuse to listen I just look to the horizon, and let my eyes glaze staring about, I begin to grow quite distant Days are endless to me, the nights are too short I wonder if this is all there is to life, is it? Hoping it's not, because as I sit here, I'm so bored let's cut to the chase, baby, lets be realistic bombs flying, world leaders playing cock of the walk all that matters now though, is me, myself and I Why should I be the one that walks the line of chalk? And I'm scared, but why do I feel like I have to lie? Take another drag, and kill myself a little more the days are monotonous, all running together there's no end to the days, sunlight bares no shore weeks, months, years, bound together like a ragdoll in leather whatever, I pull the last bit of poison and flick the butt walking to my room, the silence shrieks, I won't yield to it I crawl into my bed, unable to sleep, caught in insomnia's rut a thousand thoughts flying through my head, my brain filled with fit Finally, sleep overtakes me, a dreamless black void, I'm grateful Wallowing in the darkness, thirsting for the blackness it keeps wanting more than this world can give me, this world so dull alas, I arise, stirring in my bed, and suddenly, my eyelids leap Groaning against the little sun that comes through my covered windows I bring myself a little closer to the edge of this repitition called life I walk through my house, thinking of not the highs, but of all the lows The only pain is boredom, everything succumbs to it...it's the only strife Opening the door to the bright sunlight, hitting my eyes, making them lit I sit on my back step, and I light yet another cigarette [comments] => 2 [counter] => 145 [topic] => 13 [informant] => hydra [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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