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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 02-June 21:03:35 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 19690
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Deathdreams
[time] => 2003-06-28 17:35:00
[hometext] => Edgar Allan Poe realizes that the afterlife isn't quite what he thought it would be.
[bodytext] => I don't know how to explain it, even now. I am silent; my lips are sealed. Except for in my dreams. There I am not silent; I wake up screaming. In my dreams I see her walking toward me, she is ghostlike, transparent, Her expression is one of mingled desire and triumph. At times I'd wished there had been a death penalty for love.... It's so hot in here, in my dreams. I hear scurrying inside the walls of my mind. I don't like that. Could it be her? Has she found me again? My Annabel? It's so hot in here, and I don't like the sounds in the walls. Things look so different here, don't seem the same anymore. I wish there was a death penalty for love.... ....for true love never dies. And so I do not sleep, unless it is forever. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 225 [topic] => 13 [informant] => docblood [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 4 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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