The cards speak of ghosts in the moonlight. The fortune is so telling in its vagueness… that it drops me to my knees. What hope has a man, when instinct becomes extinct, due to his own foolish dreams? To dream in a world full of realists, liars and filthy thieves… is just like asking to burn. The harshest truth is that trust is the devil and hatred is God. When exactly the switch flipped, I do not know. I suppose it could be the devil behind the ruse… or just mankinds never-ending capacity to be selfish. We each think we are worth more than the billions of people living on this planet… or the countless that have already died upon it. We do not matter when we are matter, so why care what your eyes tell you? Why give into the supposition that we exist at all? I can tell you a story of a man. Both a hero and a villain. A sinner as well as a saint. A man with endless perfection… when it came to being imperfect. A man, that no one cared to know. Ghosts in the moonlight… cast from my own bones.
Bread and Butter