there are no more cars to crash, so I stop drinking --

there are no more homes into which a car could be crashed, so I stop
drinking --

there are no more loved ones living in homes into which cars could be
crashed, so I stop drinking --

there are no more liquor bottles coming from loved ones living in homes
into which cars could be crashed, so I stop drinking --

there is no more liquid rolling out of liquor bottles coming from loved
ones living in homes into which cars could be crashed, so I stop
drinking --

there are no glasses that could catch the liquid rolling out of liquor
bottles coming from loved ones living in homes into which cars could be
crashed, so I stop drinking --

there are no glasses through which I can see this pain,
there is no liquid in which I can drown this pain,
there is no bottle I can break over this pain,

there is no loved one that I can hurt again,
there is no home where I can crash again,
there is no car that I can drive,

or stop.


--- MrTransistor <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
> when the armies of suitors 
> come to knock down her doors
> their faces a blur of confusion 
> and emotional chaos
> she will run away and hide
> in her cellar with her booze
> and her favorite plants
> and stare into the darkness
> towards the cellar entrance
> and wait with wild eyes
> for the armies to track her down
> and worship her slippers once more
> 
> she hates to like it so
> 
> 
> 
> -------------------------------------------------------------->
>      - [EMAIL PROTECTED]
> 
>                  aim at mrbigfoo,
>                  distracted with his shoes untied.
> 


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