This is a message, and it goes as follows: worship the pillow your head rests upon, it bids you welcome every night without questioning your intentions. Love it, and hate the cushions. Your bed is a resting place, not a drawing board. Kiss the lonesome night a fair welcome. Forsake the tradition of finding a proper release, and drag her body to the sea. She was never your companion on this bitter ride.
Enjoy your stay, hug it and go the extra mile. Visit your loved ones once a while, and do wash that teddy bear. When things get entangled, its your job is to jump over them. Hug a book once every day, and plant a kiss on its cheek. There is no secret recipe, that self-appointed chef is a mere distraction. God is dead, you murdered him. Make love at first sight, and purge it with the last gaze. Kill your darlings, on a snowy night, pour gasoline and set them on fire, if your body needs the heat.
What has died can never comeback. Your leap of faith will land you safe, if you survived without a parachute, never pack one again. Don’t argue with a linguist or a philosopher, the first likes it and the second will hate you for it. Speak it with a trembling voice and shaky hands, constipation is a bitch. Life is delicious with courtship, and bitter on a cold night. A superfluous tragedy is, to imprison the love of fair skin while the cobblestone turned red.
Ants and grasshoppers have one thing in common, they both die at the end.