Curious is it not? How in life we fear the unknown vastness of eternity, we recoil at thoughts of infinite punishment for our sins and run from the truth we must inevitably face. Death. Perhaps not something we should fear and avoid, although, I am no more an expert than yourself, nor the next.
Am I to suffer damnation in the Inferno? If so, to which circle shall I reside? In my punishment, would I be granted the blessed respite of conversation? Perhaps a subject to one of Virgil's tours? Then again, should such an event come, would my madness not be exceeded by a need to hold such converse, and amplified at it's end?

Or heaven bound am I? Destined to shake Peter's hand and live a death of bliss. But to who's end? Would everlasting joy be through a freedom to do as I wish to do? Or would I yet spend all until Armageddon under the law of a deity who wants what I do not?

Whatever I am to see after I have lived I shall look upon in awe and splendour, but until that moment I shall allow but one thought on the subject.  

"Non lasciare che la paura della morte, ostacolare l'amore della vita"

Do not let the fear of death, hinder the love of life.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want to, I had to do it, you made me, made me want you, need you, it wasn’t my fault, he just, wouldn’t let me have what I need.

There she is my angel, my sweet, sweet woman. I wouldn’t hurt her you know, I’d never hurt her, I’d **** anyone that tried to hurt her, I swear it, I’d have their throats within my grasp and I’d squeeze, more and more, tighter and tighter. Until every inch of hurt they caused her was paid back, in triplicate.

I’m sorry!

NO! Why, why did you do it? Why do that to him, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t touch you, he told you to go away, he told you to leave us alone, you should have, you should have just went away, far away.

There he is, he’s really creepy, I mean seriously, he just stands there, staring at me. What does he want? Well, I guess that’s a stupid question really, it’s obvious. But why is it, when he stands there staring, he looks angry and sad all at once?

I’m sorry! Why!?

He’ll pay for that, I’ll make him pay. He shouldn’t have tried messing with me, he shouldn’t have touched me, and he shouldn’t have grabbed that knife. It was his mistake messing with people who he should fear, he’ll realise that soon enough.

I swear if he doesn’t stop looking at us I’ll **** him. He’s just stood there, fists clenched, staring at her, she’s not his and I make sure to remind him of that every day. She’s my girlfriend, and they both know it, I make sure of that, I make sure there’s no question of what is mine.

I’m sorry! Why!? He’ll pay!

* *You’re under arrest; you do not have to say anything… You made quite a mess in there kid, I don’t remember the last time I saw something that bad outside of the cinema. Tell me son, what drove you to do it? Why would someone as hopeful as you ruin your life by ending another’s? Straight A’s, plenty of social groups, hell you could have been anything you wanted to be, but. You chose ******. Sweet Jesus, I’ve seen nothing like it in my life. They say it was only that lad, poor boy doesn’t realise what’s gonna happen. They’ll see him hung for this, that fella he killed, son of one of the richest families I know. Looks like a blind fit of rage, if we can get a reason, it could save that kids life.

I’m sorry! Why!? *He’ll pay!
* You’re under arrest. **

We gather here, to bury he who killed another.

They destroyed his home, they broke his heart, and they eviscerated his body.
Justice served. In triplicate.

In twenty years I've yet to see,
A soul as destitute as me.
The curse of life is strong within,
Yet blessed are the ones who sin.
For they know joys that you do not,
Although their souls are left to rot.
So try not to do things as they're planned,
Instead make each next day more grand.

The Lord himself can not refuse you,
The wonders made just to amuse you.
So smoke and drink and swear and ****,
'Cause one day you'll be out of luck.
We can't all stay at the top,
One day left before my drop.
Let me say just one more time,
I loved my life, the one of crime.

I shan't refute that morally,
I've settled with ambiguity.
But does that really make me bad?
Or does it really make me glad?
You may say both, I'd say you're wrong,
I've smiled and laughed my way along.
Soon my road must come to end,
My soul, to eternity, I must send.

And now I see the heavenly gate,
Peter's eyes aren't filled with hate.
The doors swing open and there I see,
The manifestation of purity.
A dove, a man with drink waiting,
I feel a sense of love inflating.
What can I do but gasp in awe?
I've woken up on the bathroom floor.

So if you're dim or as bright as the sun,
Do what you like, just have some fun.

'Tis once again that time of year,
When all the boys and girls feel cheer,
And on the night when St. Nick's near,
They'll stay up late and try to hear,
Ol' Rudolph's hoofs up on their roofs,
And parent's truths do child's mind soothe,
Let Dancer, dance and Prancer, prance,
Give season's greeting just one chance,
So to all Merry Christmas I say,
May joy and laughter fill your day.
*Merry Christmas everybody

“Yes, of course, I’ll do that for you.”

That’s how it started, that’s how it always starts. They wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I never gave them no as an answer, always yes, always how high, always please.

You know, I used to thank them for telling me what to do, that’s what they had me think I should be doing, thanking them for giving me something to do but hang around with druggies and alcoholics, thank them for making sure I stay on the right track.

I don’t remember when I started, but it felt good, it felt so good. The only thing about myself I knew was right, the only thing that looked right, felt right, how could it be wrong? I know people say it is…but it really isn’t, trust me.

Tire tracks, I think that’s what people call them anyway; I can’t remember the last time I really talked to someone else. I hid my wrists from them, they might tell me not to do it, and I’d have to thank them for taking away the last of myself.

They said it again, and I thanked them again. They’re right of course, they’re always right. There are those worthless, good for nothing idiots out there who’d rather cover themselves with god knows what than admit who they really are. I wasn’t allowed to hide it.

NO! WHY! They found out, they saw the marks on my wrists while I did their washing, I’ve got nothing sharp, nothing blunt, just this stupid length of rope in the basement, I wonder, would that do?

He was only a child, 15. We found him in your basement, swinging limp, lifeless. We found a note you know, yeah.

Dear YOU,
I know what you think of me, it’s what you made me think of myself. But I’ll tell you now, because it’s my last chance.
I’m not worthless,
I’m not pathetic,
I’m not ugly,
I’m not disgusting,
I’m not wrong,
And I’m no longer YOUR accident.

Sincerely
Him

I do believe it was Sun Tzu who said: "The greatest victory, is that which requires no battle." But if there is no battle then how can a victor exists? If there is no battle then defeat cannot be, and without loss there can be no win. It is a shame, yet truthful none the less.  

Gandhi spoke: "An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind." But surely there would be one eye remaining, unless the blind could lead the seeing into darkness, would you willingly ***** the final flame? I think not, for it is the light that must guide our path an that one eye must dutifully lead the blind to ascension.  

Alighieri claimed: "The Devil is not as black as he is painted..." Yet I'd been under the impression that the Devil's crimson was that of legend, and even his blackened soul runs red with guilty blood. But let us be honest, given the company Satan must keep in hell, could any of us cope any better? I myself would become a vile shell of a spirit, desperately reaching out to those pure few to taint them with miserable truth.

Three great men, each considered to be a master of his time and chosen art, whether it be war, peace or poetry. One real lesson can be learned: a blessed man can take a situation, truest only in their own mind, and make it a universal opinion. Eloquently put, a lie can become a truth, a dream can become a memory and an opinion can become fact.

With that in mind I close, perhaps not as eloquently as a great man, with this:

We shall never know peace without war, we shall not grasp joy without sorrow nor victory without defeat; but maybe, just maybe. We shall know ourselves without first knowing another.