These tired, old bones need a rest. Drink, take me home.

Clinical D Post no. 1

" "I'm just dying a little bit on the inside each day. Though, I don't really mind taking someone with me to that grave." He said as he wiped a bulbous bead of sweat from his brow. He was frail but strong. I looked on as he let out a small whimper - he looked like an old dog who's nursing and licking his wounds in a corner. I wanted to help him kick that guy's teeth in. I wanted to watch the flecks of teeth fly in a grisly spray of red and white. He's not really sure how he'd do it but he sure knew he wanted to release that usurping feeling of passive rage. "