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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 15:40:46 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 87565
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Absolute zero
[time] => 2005-03-15 18:18:44
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Stretched skin and the smell of burning, a hole appears then silence, a door opens. Whatever you have come to expect, whatever you want to do; there is nothing that can stop you. Just your futile, pointless, imagination. What good am I? I feel like I'm slipping away, but this guilt erodes away at me, and every second death creeps upon me like a cool, callous hand in this abattoir world. I sit and watch the water overflow the chill of it on naked skin breathes new life. A puddle forms, and lines that I just can't say trickle into the emptiness. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 223 [topic] => 48 [informant] => Urizen [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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