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Labor. (Free verse) by darby pyn

I bleed for attention. wear my heart on my sleeve. sweat through my scars till the minute you leave. desperate for affection with no prudent remorse. head on for the crash with no shift from the course. beaten laid flat spread open for entry. divided by minutes that feel like a century. deep in denial. permanent bliss. the wounds in-between a fist from a kiss stay like regrets where nothing is lost. repeat without conscience no matter the cost.

fevriere 11-Jun-05/10:31 AM
I am sorry to be such a blatant hanger-on but doubleU's right. I was waiting for you to pick your head up and give a wry verbal retort. I'll bet you can do it and in my opinion it would give this poem the arsekick it deserves. No vote 'til it gets better.




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