"Oh Yea" he said as he turned to the crack head sitting on the stoop near the edge of the bar. The light had crept in through the same old hole in the curtain just like it did the day before. Its beam cast across the room marking his temple as he turned towards it, picked up his glass, and threw it back.

As he turned back towards the bar he realized there was nothing left. His life was empty just like the glass he drank from, but his will was strong, the liquor still called and the chain holding him in place, he would argue, was the strongest of all the forces.

Erased a whole bunch of sick stuff about sick people. Running around trying to get the eye out of my fork.

You know what? It fucking hurts. It hurts to see others suffer, but more importantly it hurts to see others suffer when they don't even know they are suffering. It hurts to suffer, but like death it is pretty painful for the people who are living.