Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530585" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>From the Ten, Laminated Minutes of the Early Morning</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I found my body<br>Rubbing up against a coral reef, <br>My skin peeling off like cheese<br>In an aluminum grater, <br>	Leaving little red holes, or<br>		Empty pockets of air<br>	That resemble little red holes<br>		Where my flesh once was, <br>			And I feel myself<br>				Looking at myself<br>			And I turn away from what I see, <br>But I'm not sure that's me—<br>How can I see myself? <br>How can I see myself? <br>			I look back, <br>			And nothing is there.<br>			I thought I was there, <br>			But now there is an empty space<br>			Where I was lying down, <br>			Submerging a thin stratum<br>			Of invisible blue and white-<br>			Washed reflections.<br>	I wonder where my crumpled body has gone, <br>		Where my consciousness<br>		Or some Earthly force<br>			Might've heaved<br>				That heavy sack<br>		That I was—in that puddle: <br>A bag of broken bones, <br>Serrating through the muscle<br>	To breathe one breath of<br>What seems like air.<br>		Then that ocean before me<br>		Dries up, and all I see is sand.<br>				It stretches for miles and miles<br>Around me, behind and forward—Completely encompassing.<br>	Suddenly, I feel lost and embarrassed without any reason<br>	To feel that way.<br>		I feel as if I'm a grain of sand carried by the breeze, <br>		Scattering the ground to new, <br>		Yet similar landscapes, <br>				Traversing me to where I began…<br>		Which, to me, <br>				Seems like nowhere at all.<br>Then, I start to like nowhere, <br>And I ponder about if nowhere likes me, <br>And I postulate that we belong together<br>If we commit to each other<br>In the way we pretend married people might.<br>				Time begins to funnel in on itself, <br>				And the world drains from where I came from, <br>	And I come back to the surface, <br>	Sunken through eyes that couldn't see, <br>			And a cold sweat bathes my body<br>			In the hot, summer swelter.<br>I'm curious to know what the night should mean to me, <br>But forget what it does, <br>And remembered something else instead, <br>Decided that epoché seems appropriate—<br>		And that I create my dreams to dream new dreams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Tim+Stensloff">Tim Stensloff</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530585" data-title="From the Ten, Laminated Minutes of the Early Morning de Tim Stensloff" data-description="I found my body
Rubbing up against a coral reef, 
My skin peeling off like cheese
In an aluminum grater, 
	Leaving little red holes, or
		Empty pockets of air
	That resemble little red holes
		Where my flesh once was, 
			And I feel myself
				Loo..."></div>
</div>
</div>