Sociopath Community

The crows also don't know that he is not a wounded animal, despite what those people who take up their permanent residences inside their comfortable dwellings in their safe settlements might call him, despite the ragged figure he cuts against the blindingly bright backdrop of the sun scorched land, the is a man. The staggering of his gait is caused not by an injury that has slowed him from his pack, them abandoning him to a certain death, by the contents of that flask in his hand. He raises it once more to his lips and lets the last of the whiskey trickle into his mouth, closing his eyes as he does as in equal parts to savour each final drop and to mourn their passing. After so many years with that canister his closest companion, he has become so used to the way the ground seems to move underneath his feet that now he only feels the world rocking when this body is as empty of the sweet burning liquid as his flask now is. His eyes flicker open and move back to scanning the horizon, a slight air of urgency beginning to encroach upon his weariness. 

Judas pulled his mouth away again. Content for now. He put his flask back in his breast pocket  and tried to wipe the black strings of hair, stuck in the sweat of his forehead.

"I've been at this for too long," he said aloud to himself, blaringly aware of the aching in his shoulders caused by his pack. 

How many days had it been since I've showered? Five, six.... there were those two nights i didnt sleep  and the day i slept right through...

He tried to remember how many sunrises he had seen since leaving the shanty town. His low supplies were no indication, as Judas has always had a habit of binging on food when binging on drink.

*Delete this post*

I hit quote instead of edit oopw