Things that are dead should remain dead.

What is the point of talking to it, when it has nothing to say?

What is the point of shaking it, when it will remain motionless and rigid?

Its coldness can never been warmed up.

It is lifeless and cannot be revived as its spirit has left, never to be returned.

I keep shivering. Things that are dead should remain dead.

I should be sleeping but here I am once again lost in my thoughts...and this time not just one but two float in and out my consciousness. And of course it is an itch that cannot be dismissed or an itch that will never be relieved.

Who said that the person we are likely to fall in love with ultimately must be a reflection of you both physically and mentally. Ah, poor Narcissus...I wonder if there was an identical version of ourselves of the opposite sex, would we truly fall for each other? Oh how boring!

When you paint a picture, do you paint and use colors and strokes and images based on your interpretation or do you let your subject lead you to the secret garden?

Do your words surpass space and time?

Have you thought about the responsibility you owe when you solidify, verbalize, concretize your emotion and abstract thoughts?

When you whispered, “I love you” softly enough that it could be only heard by the person you were directing to, how do you know one day you do not want to suck those words right back inside into your head because you changed your mind? It was just a passing emotion…passing path…

Do they become less significant? Or they just weight less?

Do your words surpass space and time…?