Tuesday 12/05/2006 12:30:00 AM

His words were erect with a raging hard-on. Punative and absolved of guilt by lessons of the heart.

We all stood for the duration. Bold innuendos brave enough to insinuate. Our choice of choices. In little pillars made of salt. That had dared to look back on the site of the devastation.

Only half the world left in the skin not claimed. By time and circumstance. And other imbeciles of this condition. We claim is happiness when sobriety shoves its foot up our asses.

I haven't been drunk for who knows how long. But I've been drinking too much for a ages.

Does it really matter what or who was loved. Does the water know the hole it leaked from.

Even if we could put it back. What's to stop us from losing it again?

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