……I’ll try not to choke, but it’s like taking a toke of some dense smoke, life’s hand always got that death card that you can’t discard, no matter how dense the deck of cards; it doesn’t allow you to see that far, I guess that’s why by a certain age you find people in church or bars, because of life’s scars. Philosophy can’t possibly topple life’s strange fruit, it’s a brute that landed from on high with no parachute. It’s ordained from a being with no frame, after which there will be no pain or eternal flames, an expectation we added from lessons to keep us tamed; but still life is just as real, and in it we can be killed, it’s in the contract that didn’t need your handwriting skills; it’s part of the deal. Trying to see through life’s mirror only gives glimpses of self, and the tilt you felt, as your candle melts and that death card gets dealt.