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Array ( [sid] => 52065 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Hope Forgotten [time] => 2004-06-15 13:14:50 [hometext] => 6-15-04 [bodytext] => She wakes again,in another cheap hotel,
In the big city,to the feel of clammy,
Semen soaked cotton sheets under her,
Aching buttocks.

She sees the damp circle on the pillow,
And finds she has cried herself to sleep once,
Again.

She sits up gingerly in her bed.

She is alone.

She looks on the scarred surface of the, Paceboard nightstand,
Her small guerdon is there,
One hundred dollars,
The price of her soul.

She stands up.
Every muscle in her body fills with pain.

She walks to the bathroom mirror,
And through the cracked polished glass,
She sees her face,
Seashell skin drawn perversely tight,
Over a nineteen year old frame.

She cries.

She dries her soft blue eyes,
Stained black, with the muck of wet mascara,
And runs her small fingers,
Through her unctuous hair.

Then it comes,
She feels the hunger in her stomach,
Though not for food,
She hungers for it,
It calls her,
She knows she must go to it,
All pain leaves her gaunt frame.

Hurriedly she walks to the bed,
Searching frenziedly through the cramped,
Disorder of her purse,
She finds the needle,
She finds the cold silver spoon,
She finds the tourniquet,
But ---it,
Is not here,
She has used-- it --all,
It-- is gone.

She panics.

Her eyes are wide and searching,
Her teeth are chattering,
Her hands trembling,
Her naked body covered with goose bumps,
She must have-- it,
She will have-- it.

Her cluttered mind clears,
Her want has transformed her,
Her mission awaits,
She must have,--it.

She throws on her wrinkled maroon dress,
Pulls tight her ripped fish net stockings,
Stuffs her money in her purse,
And leaves her nightly prison behind,
As she shuts the heavy wooden door.

She walks through the lobby,
People sneer,and whisper as she moves, Past them,
She does not hear them,
She does not care,
She only wants,
She is blind and mute,
She wants,
That is all.

Her steps quicken as she hits the street,
The multitude of people are angered,
As she brushes past them in an insane,
Yellow deliriam.

She sees him,
This devil with an angel bless'd tongue,
He waits for her,
Smiling,
She throws her money into his outreaching,
Hand,
He gropes slowly in his pocket,
Searching for,--it.
Her tormented eyes beg,
This is eternity to her,
She is on the verge of panic again,
Her form tenses,
He pulls,--it--,from his pocket,
Her angular hand snatches,--it--,from his,
She has it,
She has it,
The brown powder of euphoric bliss,
She has it.

She turns from the smiling devil,
Her eyes fixed in,--it--,
She sees nothing else,
She steps to the crosswalk,
She is smiling,
She stares at,--it--,as she starts across the,
Street.

She hears,sees,feels,and smells,
Nothing.

The car horns blare,
The black tires moan,
She is thrown to the grey pavement.

Her precious brown powder,
Still clenched in her hand,
Falls silently to the mercy,
Of the cleansing wind,
It,
Is gone from her forever.

Her eyes see the grey sky,
How beautiful it is,
Her senses are alive,
She takes it in,
The red cardinal in the olive green tree,
The grey clouds passing swiftly overhead,
The odor of gasoline,
The humidity of the day,
She takes it all in.

Her lungs gasp for breath,
None will enter,
Her own blood passes from body,
Like the gentle sands of an hour glass,
She must sleep.

Her mind cries for wakefulness,
But she must sleep.

The day world fades slowly to night,
-------And she sleeps,
---------------She sleeps...




















[comments] => 3 [counter] => 225 [topic] => 13 [informant] => slayer_015 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 15 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
Hope Forgotten

Contributed by slayer_015 on Tuesday, 15th June 2004 @ 01:14:50 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry



She wakes again,in another cheap hotel,
In the big city,to the feel of clammy,
Semen soaked cotton sheets under her,
Aching buttocks.

She sees the damp circle on the pillow,
And finds she has cried herself to sleep once,
Again.

She sits up gingerly in her bed.

She is alone.

She looks on the scarred surface of the, Paceboard nightstand,
Her small guerdon is there,
One hundred dollars,
The price of her soul.

She stands up.
Every muscle in her body fills with pain.

She walks to the bathroom mirror,
And through the cracked polished glass,
She sees her face,
Seashell skin drawn perversely tight,
Over a nineteen year old frame.

She cries.

She dries her soft blue eyes,
Stained black, with the muck of wet mascara,
And runs her small fingers,
Through her unctuous hair.

Then it comes,
She feels the hunger in her stomach,
Though not for food,
She hungers for it,
It calls her,
She knows she must go to it,
All pain leaves her gaunt frame.

Hurriedly she walks to the bed,
Searching frenziedly through the cramped,
Disorder of her purse,
She finds the needle,
She finds the cold silver spoon,
She finds the tourniquet,
But ---it,
Is not here,
She has used-- it --all,
It-- is gone.

She panics.

Her eyes are wide and searching,
Her teeth are chattering,
Her hands trembling,
Her naked body covered with goose bumps,
She must have-- it,
She will have-- it.

Her cluttered mind clears,
Her want has transformed her,
Her mission awaits,
She must have,--it.

She throws on her wrinkled maroon dress,
Pulls tight her ripped fish net stockings,
Stuffs her money in her purse,
And leaves her nightly prison behind,
As she shuts the heavy wooden door.

She walks through the lobby,
People sneer,and whisper as she moves, Past them,
She does not hear them,
She does not care,
She only wants,
She is blind and mute,
She wants,
That is all.

Her steps quicken as she hits the street,
The multitude of people are angered,
As she brushes past them in an insane,
Yellow deliriam.

She sees him,
This devil with an angel bless'd tongue,
He waits for her,
Smiling,
She throws her money into his outreaching,
Hand,
He gropes slowly in his pocket,
Searching for,--it.
Her tormented eyes beg,
This is eternity to her,
She is on the verge of panic again,
Her form tenses,
He pulls,--it--,from his pocket,
Her angular hand snatches,--it--,from his,
She has it,
She has it,
The brown powder of euphoric bliss,
She has it.

She turns from the smiling devil,
Her eyes fixed in,--it--,
She sees nothing else,
She steps to the crosswalk,
She is smiling,
She stares at,--it--,as she starts across the,
Street.

She hears,sees,feels,and smells,
Nothing.

The car horns blare,
The black tires moan,
She is thrown to the grey pavement.

Her precious brown powder,
Still clenched in her hand,
Falls silently to the mercy,
Of the cleansing wind,
It,
Is gone from her forever.

Her eyes see the grey sky,
How beautiful it is,
Her senses are alive,
She takes it in,
The red cardinal in the olive green tree,
The grey clouds passing swiftly overhead,
The odor of gasoline,
The humidity of the day,
She takes it all in.

Her lungs gasp for breath,
None will enter,
Her own blood passes from body,
Like the gentle sands of an hour glass,
She must sleep.

Her mind cries for wakefulness,
But she must sleep.

The day world fades slowly to night,
-------And she sleeps,
---------------She sleeps...
























Copyright © slayer_015 ... [ 2004-06-15 13:14:50]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Hope Forgotten (User Rating: 1 )
by pixie on Tuesday, 15th June 2004 @ 01:17:44 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
wow, this is so amazingly written and powerful 5/5

pixie xx



Re: Hope Forgotten (User Rating: 1 )
by ladyfawn on Tuesday, 15th June 2004 @ 01:35:17 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
so vivid, an excellent reality poem, hugs n' love nessa

@->>->:-


Re: Hope Forgotten (User Rating: 1 )
by perfection on Sunday, 4th July 2004 @ 10:44:38 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)
I really like that poem! You did a good job on showing so much expression. Is it based on a true story, or just made up in your head?
xoxo
Sarah

*Stay Strong*




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