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Array
(
[sid] => 149388
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => relapse.
[time] => 2009-04-25 08:07:00
[hometext] => This isn't meant to impress anyone, or recieve praise. I merely had to stop the screaming. (Father, I hate that you still affect me.)
[bodytext] => you are something that can only be whispered. ( I cannot say your name; my stomach folds into itself, grinding like my fists and teeth, I find it funny how you still ruin me. ) cradled in silent remorse. Infidelity is the stitching that binds us, unraveling like sanity and memories that are meant to be forgotten, but they crawl through the fissures like so many thorns, smelling of your kisses, your rancid fondlings. I am complete in this degradation. unwrapping my thighs from the bed I finally conquered, the one you pressed me into countless nights like an eager god, relentless. I remember my lungs clenching dumbly; their need was irrelevant, I knew if I granted them power it would give my mouth reason to shriek. the flesh on my thighs screech with their incessant madness, my attempts to grasp control through self-atonement - Carving sonnets / hurt. weep. lie. / At times, it drips with your venom - / whore. burden. ugly. / Sometimes I can't distinguish your voice from my own. Perhaps we're the same monster. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 223 [topic] => 75 [informant] => FleurdeSang [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => anguished )
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