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Host (Free verse) by Imperfections
You're a bandage to my wounds. I'm infected while your gone with their dirty looks and slimey smirks festering under my skin. You're an antipyretic to the fever which now, breaking with your return, leaves me immune, no longer host to the virus seeping out.

Up the ladder: Matter Of Fact
Down the ladder: just a story

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Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
 GraphVotes
10  .. 00
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Arithmetic Mean: 5.0
Weighted score: 5.0
Overall Rank: 7856
Posted: January 21, 2003 9:51 PM PST; Last modified: January 21, 2003 9:51 PM PST
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Comments:
[9] wOrnella Mutiw @ 198.81.26.167 | 21-Jan-03/11:26 PM | Reply
NYC girls are the best...here's a 9
[n/a] horus8 @ 24.126.113.154 > wOrnella Mutiw | 22-Jan-03/2:35 PM | Reply
"Intelligent, angsty, 20-something blond with aspirations of perfection" thanks for the nine.
[n/a] -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. @ 131.111.8.103 | 22-Jan-03/5:42 AM | Reply
You're a laxative
to my constipation
I'm bloated
while you're gone
with relentless filth
and unbroken wind
fermenting
within my bowels
[n/a] horus8 @ 24.126.113.154 > -=Dark_Angel=-, P.I. | 22-Jan-03/2:33 PM | Reply
You're a towtruck
to my polo lounge
I'm naked
while you're atari
with kaboom
and pitfall 2
zombies
within my tiki hut.
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