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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 09:49:10 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 151699
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Hey, John, how do you like your Macabre? Medium rare or brutal?
[time] => 2009-07-25 11:25:15
[hometext] => It's pretty dark.
[bodytext] => The room choes with the sound of screams, flowing like a dying stream. Acid disturbed, disfiguring skin. Teeth grinding on receeding gums. Conciousness wearing thin. Heart pounding like the beat of a drum. Instruments of pain glisten in your blazing eyes. Knife shreds the thread-bound wrists. Proceeding upwards, paralyzed. Scalpel at hand, fingers twist. Undergo ripping the cuticle and nail. blood trickling, turn one-eighty degrees. Complexion runs pale. Amnesia, unable to please. Drill rusty and unsteril, Used for a most productive peril. Your mind flashing in your optical view. Noise overflows in voice and music. Looking around, it was a grim milieu, Enough to make you sick. The swirling ready drill drew near. Flinching as a forlorn sign. Touching, shriveling, twisting fear. Flesh grinds, destroyed rfom the drills occupation. Twisting into one, ripped apart, revealing muscle and bone. Organs shown, bones turn to dust and mere memories. Cryptic words align on your tongue. Body motionless and numb. Leaving the shady corpse in morgues wake. Only your soul meant to break. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 194 [topic] => 13 [informant] => tinathetalkingtaco [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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