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Jan 1
I feel
like I died a
horrible
****** death
at the hands
of some great
and terrible beast
with razor claws
and gnashing teeth
that escaped its cage
and pounced on me
out of the shadows,
glinting eyes
reflecting
fire from
the wreckage left
by the mile-long circus train,
now derailed,
after running into me
full speed.
"Oh my god... I'm never drinking again..." He said, lying to himself, and God, in agony. "You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now."

Happy New Year!
T R Wingfield
Written by
T R Wingfield  36/M/Deep in the Heart'o'Dixie
(36/M/Deep in the Heart'o'Dixie)   
138
     Fawn and ---
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