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Post by Aish on Jun 9, 2005 14:47:15 GMT -5
How can you sleep and dream with a limited mind?
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Post by Aish on Jun 9, 2005 15:31:02 GMT -5
the brillo tongue is scathing, hostile
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Post by Aish on Jun 10, 2005 4:41:35 GMT -5
So - you are alive, and wicked and dreaming...
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Post by Aish on Jun 12, 2005 1:45:54 GMT -5
The stars are whispering...
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Post by Aish on Jun 14, 2005 3:41:26 GMT -5
The prettiest thing of all is the bite in your eyes
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Post by Aish on Jun 16, 2005 17:44:20 GMT -5
The bruise on an apple may look uninviting, but it's so soft and sweeter than the rest -
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Post by Aish on Jun 30, 2005 0:35:08 GMT -5
eat shit and die already, bitchpig
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Post by Aish on Jul 2, 2005 22:23:15 GMT -5
The chair feels creepy - don't touch me there!
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Post by Time_Spinner on Jul 4, 2005 15:38:26 GMT -5
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Post by Aish on Aug 20, 2005 16:08:32 GMT -5
words, tiny letters of strung phenomes, to trip and tempt ... just ash and dust on the air...
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Post by Aish on Sept 19, 2005 23:23:04 GMT -5
I have systematically eradicated my old life - it no longer exists - and that makes me both sad and liberated
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Post by Aish on Oct 12, 2005 22:42:26 GMT -5
the salt of your tongue is savagely sweet against my thigh...
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Post by Aish on May 25, 2006 16:46:51 GMT -5
...when time slows and stands,
s t i l l
on the edge of my tongue
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Post by Aish on Nov 29, 2006 20:50:31 GMT -5
his voice is wild silk lullabies
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Post by Aish on Nov 29, 2006 21:23:35 GMT -5
hands open like thighs in supplication
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