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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 17:38:07 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 99879
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Nothing More
[time] => 2005-07-02 11:23:25
[hometext] => Just how it used to be
[bodytext] => Skin tight with ambition, anticipation My cold hands grasping the neck of an old friend Striking violently. Repetitive motion. Takes too much time to persuade The crimson fluid to come and play It clings to my arm like two reunited lovers More than obsession or routine Pure passion perverting my devotion Carried on a surge of emotion Numbed as my fingertips run through the wound A slight tingle can be felt, nothing more Label me what I am, nothing more A whole person defines by the dried blood on razor blades, Nothing more. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 177 [topic] => 36 [informant] => crimson_purity [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Suicide )
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