precious oxygen replaced with the smoke of tar and tabacco nicotine running rampant through my veins the alcohol begins to wear off any hope of forgetting thrown out the window the mistakes too grave to speak of the hurt too much to have caused uncharacteristically forward, nothing to hide maybe the alcohol still has a solid hold too restless to unwind, the mind plays a morbid game of hide and ...

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Published: 2 years ago (Thu, 12 Jul 2007 22:29:41 PDT); 618 bytes
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