Opium Dreams

   He sat on the edge of a flat surfaced rock in front of the cave, a little gloomy but nonetheless focused and composed, he felt shivers as the cold chill of the northern wind hit his back, announcing ominously the departure of the Sun, and the inevitable arrival of the night.   'it has been a long day' he thought to himself, even though he didn't keep count, the sun was generous that day, all the more reason to be afraid of the dark, he took his dagger out of his pocket, it was still dripping, little red drops of fresh blood, he frowned at the misfortune, 'my pocket is now all dirty and smelly' he said with a hint of discomfort, two meters to his right side laid the body of a beast, dead and markedly injured throughout, its throat visibly slit and still pouring hot blood in progressively weakening thrusts, the beast gave its last jerks and went cold, the hunter looked at it, 'you hear that' he said mockingly, 'at least you managed to foul my cloth'

We've been doing this shit for too damn long, you get tired, so you revitalize, then you get tired again, then one day you get excited, then you get tired again, but practice makes perfect right?, so your tolerance increases, but it's too damn long, almost infinite, sooner or later you get tired again, so you try to revitalize and go to your roots, you know discover who you are and why and all that nonsense, but you're empty, nothing is in there surprise surprise!!, nothing but fancy words and meaningless memories, you're still tired so you go to sleep, 8 hours, you wake up just a little bit rejuvenated, you start again, you see new faces, go new places, have different experiences, but it's still the same, that tire that just never goes away, that melancholy that drives your inclination towards sad movies and dark rooms, that horror that attacks violently when you're alone and defenceless, then you get tired of it all, so you go to sleep, 8 hours, this time le