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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:45:23 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 98993
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => She sat with a needle
[time] => 2005-06-22 17:01:59
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => She is on the bathroom floor Knife in hand, dripping blood "Why do I do this to myself?" is the last thought she formulates before numbness kicks in. From then on it's simple splendor and joy from poisonous fumes she purposely inhaled. My wrists are swollen and tired My eyes have lost their glow, I don't care where I am going Just as long as the pain doesn't show. She sits against the door Rocking back and forthe blood dotting the walls, a morbid, seductive painting The needle is perched on the other side of the room. Waiting to be driven into skin as it leaks cold and lonely acid into strained veins. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 187 [topic] => 66 [informant] => Inevitable [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => drugabuse )
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