Array
(
[sid] => 184871
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Ancient Mists
[time] => 2018-02-14 03:38:52
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Smoke curls in multi colored clouds;
rays from setting sun shine through
as if through a glass prism,
producing only the darkest shades
of purples and blues;
almost black, they shine dimly
on ancient boneyards,
calling demons from their semi lucid dreams;
raising of half rotting stewards,
monstrous worms still eating flesh,
clinging to bone with jagged teeth,
smiling as they look on
with sickly green neon pupils.
O! Hideous dead,
called to rule my static pulsations;
I deemed thee unwelcome
long ago.
[comments] => 5
[counter] => 133
[topic] => 73
[informant] => nightwolf
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 0
[ratings] => 0
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => abstract
)
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