and even the trees we walked under seemed less than trees and more like everything else.
I carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: "Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I'll be ready.
Most people's deaths are a sham. There's nothing left to die.
A day of minor profit or prophet led to a night of drunkenness.
The world is full of boring, identical and mindless people.
hate contains truth. beauty is a facade.