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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 01-June 12:09:51 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 83695
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Hoth Cold Continuum
[time] => 2005-02-09 17:15:34
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => So incubate your solar systematic open house, And wait for the water to fill your lungs. Incandescent explanations extinguished, In the wake of prom night butterflies. It was the consequential backhand, That epitomized my fears. Let’s pull the hands of the clock, From my neck and see the world, In black and white. A narcissistic echo dances reluctantly, On my tongues while it acts, On the delivery like a catalyst. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 177 [topic] => 43 [informant] => savingmarion [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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