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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 08:50:42 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 137819
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Storage Room
[time] => 2007-10-13 18:04:37
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Living in a dream with squibbly spirals serpenting through the wiggles of my conscience. I wake up in the dark in the silence. Alone. Every morning I wish to wake in a warm embrace of skin on skin, bathing me in the aura of the sense of belonging. An old lonely building glaring at the tourists with smashed glass eyes; And heaps of rubble inside, longs to be owned, cared for, renewed. Like a baby. Glassy eyes I close as I examine the mess I stuffed into the room I own. Inside me, Boxes full of fragile feelings. Stacks of emotions filed by title. Moods on coat hangers ranging according to colors. Desires and Needs stuffed in a drawer - long, tangled, colorful scarves. Finally, in a glass counter case there is a substance. Fluid, silky, grey. Memories on display. An old lonely building glaring at the tourists with smashed glass eyes; And heaps of rubble inside, longs to be owned, cared for, renewed. Like a baby. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 230 [topic] => 66 [informant] => ediii [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => drugabuse )
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