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Array
(
[sid] => 69533
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Crumbed Chicken
[time] => 2004-10-31 06:02:55
[hometext] => Food is an enemy
[bodytext] => As I sit down for tea, my stomach grumbles. I ate half hour ago, but I welcome my food. A stuff my face, full of crumbed chicken. Munging really quickly, not even tasting. I finish my plate, within ten minutes. My stomach settles, I wait for the tears. I run to the toilet, welcoming my finger. I plunge it deeply, in my throat. And in one motion, my muscles tense. I bring back, my crumbed chicken. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 187 [topic] => 32 [informant] => Hollie85 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )
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