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drugs frying my mom

I am a funeral home walking into light that police cars destroy
with their tolls and cocaine
place me, truck me to the reservation, where the natives hydrate me

30 Nov 10

Rated 10 (8.8) by 2 users.
Active (2): 10, 10
Inactive (13): 1, 1, 6, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10

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(50 more poems by this author)

(4 users consider this poem a favorite)

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write another too... write 50 and it'd be a beautiful book.
 — bmikebauer

the focus of this is so tight. i think that's what this one has that your others don't. it's like the others shotgun about twenty of these and they're pleas for sanity, and this one is a picture of the author writing the poem.

'hydrate me' is kind of trite... like, what would they have for you at all? raindances on your rainbow? 'dehydrate' would fit the poem into the socket wrench, but it's probably not at all what you want us to read from this. do you really think there's an easy solution to your life which isn't going to happen by writing and creating art?
 — bmikebauer

oh man, so many good stuff i've missed lately.
this rehydrates and dehydrates all at once.

: )
 — fractalcore

this is completely awesome.
 — unknown

read this aloud. bloody brilliant. every words impeccably placed.
 — unknown

primo pronto
 — unknown

 — unknown

Whoaaa. Love this.
 — peace

And I agree with bmike, 'dehydrate' would kill it
 — peace

best thing ive read all month danny
 — unknown

 — Empty

Wow: wow. Nihilo: love it.
 — asphara