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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 06:49:14 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 134656
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => American Auschwitz
[time] => 2007-05-24 08:32:11
[hometext] => In this place, the oven is the heater next to the bathroom and the heat emited from excercise time...
[bodytext] => My patience wears thick, THICK cotton with THIN buttons; purple-bruised and shiney with gloss from pre-rigamort* R U N S. (The past is sometimes the future.) Yet, I'm furnished all green; facing a sorebed with little help from an unfinished sorbet while making shadow puppets with my Hebrew-nose. All quite opposite of my tenacity; an orange strong-block: A vice of dinnertime scramble eggs, sunny side down. Those schmucks do neglect fairly well. The smells of almonds are noticeably free. I bet if I open my inner thigh, pools of white would seep through the sheets. Yes, such a mantsbil like me faces the all common blue sky in disoriented gusto. For, in this nursery concentration, a camp for barcoded tickers, there's always a yellow baggie waiting at the end of the bed. Hell, maybe somemonth, I will see the red flashing sign at the Rec. Room's hallway; it's underneath a door that all of "US"* want to walk through while we are still breathing. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 246 [topic] => 43 [informant] => skyhawk432 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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