The red rose slips out of your fingertips and the rains do not cease their incessant downpour--
Lost is not the word when you were never found and all conception of life has been nothing more than an imaginary mind wandering in infertile lands--
Where is not the question, there is no question when there are no answers to any questions, the absence of the truth is evident from the lack of facts to be turned into a lie, without lies there can be no truth whatsoever--
Imagination implies there is an objective world to distort into a more comfortable and warm existence or one that can be twisted into a dark, horrific nightmare--
Pain is not the feeling, for how can there be an absence of pleasure brought about by introduction of discomfort when there is nothing to feel discomforted from in eternity--
Forgetting the memory that never was will never be in the face of a future that is neither a nature of its own existence nor is it conceived of by anyone who is not aware that they were aware or that they are now not aware of all that they are not aware of.