Diary of a Madman: Aphorisms, Maxims and Allegories

The Heavens descend in the form of tragedy...

And I ask too much of the wounded.

Bell shaped curves, rocketing back and forth, circumnavigating droplettes of sweat -

Straight on, to the more angelic features of a dream.

We lay breathless, wordless, in a four-walled world of promises,

The chasm, a head held high, a strategic absence of held-hands and ribboned boxes,

opened further by our nonchalance... ...

...“And what is ‘Real’?” he asked, methodically, cryptically.
“Well, how things are. – The sky, the moon, the stars, this tavern…death.”
“Is there a thing that you would call the opposite of death?”
“Of course, life.”
“And what is it, to be alive?”
“Drawing breath, a heart beat…I suppose.”
“Is it so simple as that?” he said, reclined.
“No…no, it isn’t. I’m at a loss as to what else to say, though.”
“Would you say that life, to be alive, must ...

If religion is the opiate of the masses, then Metaphysics is the opiate of the philosopher: one should not argue too strongly against either.