DetailsThe poem, its numbers, and the conversation.

Host

Member since 2003 · Posted 21 Jan 2003 · 4 comments

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.

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0 is the worst, 10 the best. Pick a number, add a comment if you like, then send it. Keys: 0–9 pick, Enter sends.

mean 5.00 weighted 5.00 rank 7845 views 136 View voting details →

3 votes so far. Yours would make 4.3 votes so far

4 comments

[9] wOrnella Mutiw 21-Jan-03/11:26 PM Reply

NYC girls are the best...here's a 9

[n/a] horus8 › 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. 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 › -=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.