I Think, In A Weird

She Leaned Forward And Kissed Me On The Lips. He Mouth Was Cold, Her Lips Rough From The Winter Wind, And If The Mystics Are Right And We Are Doomed To Repeat Our Squalid Lives Ad Infinitum, At Least I Will Always Return To That Kiss

This Is Good, Life Must Continue, We Are Fighting Barbarians, But We Must Remain Human.

It Is Actually A Lot Harder To Sit Down And Write From A To Z. But For Me At Least, It's The Only Way I Can Do It, At This Point, With Any Moderate Success.

Truth Might Be Stranger Than Fiction, But It Needs A Better Editor.

That Is The Way We Decided To Talk, Free And Easy, Two Young Men Discussing A Boxing Match. That Was The Only Way To Talk. You Couldn't Let Too Much Truth Seep Into Your Conversation, You Couldn't Admit With Your Mouth What Your Eyes Had Seen. If You Opened The Door Even A Centimeter, You Would Smell The Rot Outside And Hear The Screams. You Did Not Open The Door. You Kept Your Mind On The Tasks Of The Day, The Hunt For Food And Water And Something To Burn, And You Saved The Rest For The End Of The War.