Mark Smith

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Sunday, July 1, 2007

My Own Comments

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The clouds erupt with sound and thunder, my heart bleeds with blood and hunger...
The sound of hearbeats, spiked veins and broken ribs...
The taste of copper, and the smell of my aftershave...
The bloodshot eyes of last night drinking- are this mornings hangovers...
...
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Mark Smith

May broken clouds

COMMENTS

Sandra Van Coppenhagen 21 January 2009

wow mark this poem is my favorite by far

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Mark Smith

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