"Is there anything you want from life?"
...
"The answer to that, sir, is that I want death on the stairs."
...
"When? When do you want death on the stairs?"
"When? The same time as all the judging others...when all my domesticated heros have died, when I've lied to all my loved ones, when I've become immune to my own instincts,...,when I lie between cold stone walls breathing gaseous fag ash, alone with the dust mites in this piteous vision,

When the night is worlds away from the day,...,when I know for a fact that the days in the sun were allusions..."


After reading this part (scribbled in the original handwriting of the author), I could only stare. "When the night is worlds away from the day,...., when I know for a fact that the days in the sun were allusions...". There's just something in those words that strikes a deep chord in me. Maybe its for me because those words are true. Night is worlds away from day. The beautiful days were only an allusion. I could only compare them to bad days, therefore they seemed beautiful.

Alright. Discuss.