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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:37:45 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 24618
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Bare Knuckler
[time] => 2003-10-08 11:33:51
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Blood mixes with spit. Your punch hit the mark well. My power's not spent, so prepare to taste hell. My fingers are clenched in their own private pain. My arm lunges with the full weight of a train. Smash! quick first left, now right. Pummel your body with an animal's sight. You block, you jab, now uppercut, swing. You are my santa and toys of pain you bring. Our eyes meet for an eternal moment in time. We see our horrors and then conceal the crime. Empathy has no place between us. We are companions sharing antitrust. Crack says your nose. Splash goes your blood. Slam goes my fist. You go down with a thud. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. That's it - end of fight. Get up friend; we're done. But you didn't get up. What's this I see? That's not my opponent... Oh my god! That's me! What have I done? Did life end so quick? I was in no accident. I'm not even sick! My dreams are done and so is the fight. So drive safely, tip your bartender, goodnight! jz [comments] => 3 [counter] => 165 [topic] => 43 [informant] => norticus [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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