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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:21:56 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 141923
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => none
[time] => 2008-04-27 23:39:05
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => They come in the morning, wrapped in the plastic bags; They come in the morning, demanding their own; They come in the morning, to be my ear they are pretending; Squeezing with wires, taking out all the life fluids. Tiny, invisible; They come in the morning, and they look like playboy calendar. Never the same: In my cup of coffee, In my cigarette smoke. They come in the morning, sitting on the edges of my lips, Digging through my forehead; They come in the morning, swallowing nightmares from the last night, And creating Life-Death. Waving from my back, look like wings. Tiny, invisible; They lie, They say I can fly! They come in the morning, in my cold milk, floating in the foam, Melting in my saliva. They come in the morning. They come in the morning. They come in the morning. And I want them to leave. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 214 [topic] => 73 [informant] => Arijadna77 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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