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Date Posted: 09:44:46 03/21/01 Wed
Author: Paddy
Author Host/IP: inktomi1-edi.server.ntl.com / 62.253.0.4
Subject: Truth about a 16 year old alcoholic from England

That fizz that comes with the release of pressure and
the anticipation of the oblivion
to come. That smell that makes the stomach hiss at
the impending punishment. And oh that taste! The
taste of a thousand drunk evenings in the park,
and the lips of girls I dabbled with as we dared
to shine in the moonlight for ten minutes longer
than we were permitted. And oh my existence,
crippled now by the experiments of my youth.

I'm still but a child, yet each day I am feeling
older and older, and I have always got a
little less I want to say. And I guess I'm just
escaping from the things I can't talk about because
I can't afford to throw my existence away.
I hate living this way, but my truth awaits me
like a tiger for a gladiator and I
will not be torn to pieces in front of thousands.
Where are you now Jesus? Let us not lie, we have
not spoken properly in months and I feel so
lonely. What you did was great, but now I feel too
ashamed of myself to look at you in the eye.

That fizz, as the asprin dissolves in water and
promises to take the pain away. That smell, the
smell of failure as the vessel carrying
all the talent in the world explodes with the pressure
and smoke leaves the air indistinct. And oh that taste!
Its the taste of my truth as I choke on it each
morning and swallow it, hiding it from the world
day on day like a birthmark on my chest. And
oh my existance, crippled now by the suppression
of the person inside me and the frustration
he feels that the world doesn't want him living here.

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