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Array
(
[sid] => 62216
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Asceticism
[time] => 2004-09-01 16:38:36
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => we are two wicks in a single candle. we hurt. we burn. yet we, ourselves, are dying. we thought we are the hope; that we're the only ones showering them light. perhaps it's true but why can't we feel their hearts tugged? why can't we receive sympathy? we sway in this dance, pretending this is happiness. yet, we know deep in our bodies that it is winter. it is sunset. surrender is coming. odd words come out from our mouths, covering every rotten peach with sweet syrup. but i shake my right foot the way you shake your left foot. and under the sun, so cold, we're silent... and we don't know where to begin, where to turn, where to stop. it's not envy. it's fear of betrayal. you said i don't understand but i do perfectly. and i keep this smile in my mask and how i wish the depression shows. like black eyes, like goddesses' gowns, like the guitar crying. and i repeat a happy tune in my mind and lips and feel the drums, gently. and his voice and our picture together. like 1:13 a.m. and short-haired girl, cursing and cursing, letting out her pain and breaking down eventually. and when i hear this song, i feel like giving up my body, like my spirit just kneels down, my eyes move to the back of my skull, straight to the blue, black, morning, evening, afternoon skies. and i feel him, yet he just walks away. and you, too, feel this. you curse as much as i did. i listen just like my friend. and i avoid thinking, but i can't sleep. is it the afternoon nap? is it the radio playing? is it the ghost in the photos? what is it?! and still, i keep to myself. i won't accept goodbye but change meant goodbye for a while. what if it ends for good? memories can't be erased, can they? i state. i ask. i rejoice. i complain. you should count them all. for sure i've written a million words. not here. beside me. but you won't bother to see my sacrifice. i forgot and i can't hear a sound coming out from your mouth and you pull me out of my misery by giving me what i need from another... but it'll never tame my stubborn heart. and you, you, not him! criticize my paper like you really know how it feels, like you really know what i'm trying to say. let's go to our attic and own our thrones back. rocking chairs, dusty books, a counter of raindrops. but we know we'll melt and we know we'll be solid again... so we'll never forget our reasons, we'll be what we are forever and they will always be loved. -rae '03. 120403. Thursday. 2:51 PM. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 182 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Rae [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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