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Imagine drinking lots of sour tasting drinks, feeling it burn all the way to your tummy, to your head, to your eyes. Imagine drinking these drinks all the time, even at work. Imagine even not going to work because of your drinks. They make your body feel icky and still... you bodycan't stop, it wants more abuse, more sick drink. More of that flaky green stuff in the bag, and more of those long white things in a box. Pops does this.
Momma called a man today named Matt....a house guy who said to my crying momma and my drinking green flake white things pop about the house around me that it was almost four closet. Meaning lost it.
momma won't stop crying.
Pop keeps popin sick drinks.
Sissy is depressed about the cock sucking demon..
Love ain't here, he pushin buggie into buggie garage at the wal-
I alone wit 41 dollars in my pocket and a car full of gasoline.
SHALL I GET FOOD?
Maybe i should wait for momma to wake up. Maybe not.
pop wants more sick drink.
is 3000 dollars alot.... i suppose
if it makes momma cry.
SOmeone help momma. I can't.
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Posted by junk_mistress on 2007-12-08 14:39:58 | Rating: | Views: 88
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