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Array
(
[sid] => 92782
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => On Falling
[time] => 2005-04-30 00:52:18
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I unfold my keyboard. I rub my brow. I am tired out. I am worn down. I am ready to fall from here. I clumsily type; my fingers flailing wildly over the shadows of my thought. I am sick of life. I am sick of life. My typing slows, my thought blurs-the windows are closed, the night is a pall skull under the moonlights snow- my thought is slithered down my spine down my lips into my fingers shocked and slowed. I am ready to die. I am ready to die my life is empty and alone. I am ready to move on my love is in the smaller things. I cannot bear to watch the world unfold. I cannot bear to watch the things I love wither and grow old. All my life I have sought to find my proper place. All my life I have loved. I am ready to die. There is nothing left for me in this world. I find nothing but pain. In even the most beautiful creatures I find only loss. I can dream the softest song, and I can write the strongest star over the mountains long, but i cannot place in my own smile the need for simple peace. When I die I want to fall. I want to feel the air in my face. I want the ground speeding towards me. I want the impact hard and precise. It is what my death should be, because i have fallen from my love into a world that I cannot understand. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 152 [topic] => 48 [informant] => iodinelove [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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