Deep Drunkard
Staggering through stark naked stripped of possessions. Head pounding hard like hammers harassing stone. Blood bubbling and boiling to the surface, berserk fury barely held in check. Hulking hatred starts to heave within the body. Muscles twitch and flex, arms ache, knees knock together. Reaching around for an advantage. A stone. Clanging against walls, chipping off excess.Thoughts of revenge seethe within the mind. Sourness stews deep under the mossy loam. Drawing in twin lungfuls the berserk lets out a drunken roar that rumbles through the caves. Bounces off slate boundaries and clangs through crumbling chasms.
The drunkard will get to the top even if the journey is a blurry, bloody mess.
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