Like fetuses hiding in the womb; you try to keep it a secret from your selfish-visceral world! As startled, your little animal would gradually chatter from time to time to finally fall out! The tears in your crater eyes swell into streams, reviving your self-creating, selfish dreams! In accelerating years, maybe motherhood women who can still understand your playful infancy are nursing! Like your rich self rebirths! Tiger-meekness is so good to rest between the paws of a mother tiger even now; an angry beast protecting your cub take care of you! Which would be better? You are slowly falling out of your rhythm of life!
 
You can also open your gentle selfishness and then all the additional protection can go there! In a trembling fever, in the stream of the Universe, they seek each other together. Loyalty-sparkling hands; torment in lust, light in the night! - Your uncertain Being Calvary seems to stretch on your bones like a bony seed; self-digesting wild fever surrounds you daily to devour you: your disintegrated chaotic future!
 
You may not know even a gracious moment what it has to offer you! In your ongoing life, you exist with a glowing self! In your stellar loneliness, your Executioner Time also seems to be graying, the beards of the dead under the ground will soon grow out! "In your beloved giver's immortal womb, perhaps the creaking Future is dormant somewhere!" Squeaking your bowed soul into the cherished homes of deer eyes! It does not move back to your trembling self during the sprouting man…

In my creative, restless brain, millions of electric sparks transmit new thoughts to my boiling, throbbing heart! In the conscious-planned battles of tomorrow, child-playful intentions can erupt; a noble-proud Shadow of Light as a secret protector, a plasma-crystal rattartin, tears through the many golden grains of sand in the syrupy, spawned air, and according to the laws of the Real, you can measure the defiant listening of the karakan! "If I weigh myself strictly, others are almost always unique and few!"
 
The superficial, exhibitionist world is pathetic, little boy I see around me s horrible confrontation in the sacred right of accountability, relentless trampling! In the orderly interior of the closed circles of heart-petals, the greatest gift can be won only by gradual cognition and understanding: eternal Trust! Whoever instinctively desires humanity must always be a part of incomprehension ?! "I've tried to do compliment Don Quixote foolishly many times on the altar of kindness, caught dating!" In my dreams, I tried to express myself in Whole!
 
Eventually, perhaps, I can only be a sore Missing myself, if the immortal happiness of moments escapes! Can there still be someone who will notice the fallen Man in me, and with the eternal and beautiful love of the Cosmos of the Universe will give me a giggle for shelter in me! As a hiding place, we could taste the twilight lips of each other’s little accomplices drop by drop patiently, like honey! Spraying drops of sweat would obediently scatter the veiled mirror of our souls for the happiness to be found.

Annihilation has already become a wisdom of life, a cheap livelihood crime, in which it is as if I am suffering from a pursuit phobia of just being a hunter and not even asking why he did it? and don't leave me alone for a minute-minute blue! The downtrodden, resembled World belongs to those accused of remorse: The uplifting and self-help humanity of morality does not matter here: Perhaps all connections between common sense are broken!

Doing nothing is the most useful deed; many lie on benches until ten in the morning, trembling in a deeply drunken dream, and this is only useful and good for them: The next day, then, as the cogwheel of eternity, the problems just don’t go away, but they continue! And the sanda and monotonous consequence of all contradictory, petty reasoning is, "Your idea has fallen ugly!" If you appeal to One, and who dare to report the Truth clearly and simply,

which everyone is now wary of - your answer is, "Shut up!" As clear as possible. You are better at concealing the universal, cohesive thought of your spirit with all your means, but the Face you see when you look in the mirror: it seeks answers for you, and often the way you might look, and if you thought in an octonic way, “Everything is hopeless! Everything is already lost! ” - look out the window for a moment and in the ice cold night nature will send you its icy flowers! - perhaps a futile, deceptive thought is thoughtful persuasion, and yet if you turn away from your uttered words, which have already been judged in yourself, you are fooling yourself!

Being little people, we search further and further along the road in the holy joys of small, petty rebellions; for which we do not yet have to pay in money, and which - so far - have not been deliberately stolen from us by a higher power. Despite innumerable taboos, they still drive the bleating herd of people out into the field on certain grounds, just let them scurry and chant until dawn to their heart's content. The human-smelling movements of existence are also regulated by new and new decrees, protocols, and forms that smell of paper and parchment, if necessary or not; a road builder, a bricklayer, or a baker rarely gives a certificate, but even so, quite a few times - it happens - they spit in the kneaded bread or roll dough.

And for some reason, even the common man may feel that the intention to change spatial location, or the cheap, easy option of going abroad would be less and less legitimate or fair play, since there too interest-relations make it necessary. Perhaps this is why man is now trying to filter himself from three directions: on the altars of deficiency-filling inhibitions and suspicious doubts, as well as on the catafalque of inner psychological Deficiencies - under the crumbling burdens of wavering inner balances, it cannot be such a good thing for the old fools.

As decades come and go, he carries the cheap, viscerally raw vision and image of the fall between the grinding gears of twitching nervous systems, even though he is only mortal and a speck of dust at the same time and believes that he has managed to conserve something after all. Because they can no longer love the three billion lonely Universe or call it their home, the dehumanized Nirvana-nothing descends and deliberately ***** it in all at once!

In space, he was suddenly shaking at some minute-sudden speed: The jargon, the thief, and the ugly speech were in place: Attraction heaps of sarcasm! The round celestial body of the moon first stretched with a grimly distorted spirit in the slushy, puddle-mirror of the bus stop, and with the shaking howling winds! - We distribute the judgment ourselves, - we cannot choose from complicit and unworthy possibilities - he is in a suit,

masquerade Gorillas, built artificial nail plaza kittens dictated the agreed trend: S the immortal apocryphal pyramids of cultures are soon forgotten!

And as soon as they can do me a favor, they laugh one last time and leave me alone! Our small life is both ridiculous and pathetic at the same time! The risky decay that promises to destroy the inner self - in vain in terrorist words: The True, Tangible Essence is not attainable!

If we do not take care and make sure that our self-pity is in direct proportion to our slippery pessimism - or with our skinny spark optimism we will soon get ourselves a hangman! - Explosion of unsolicited electrical nerve pathways at the edge of brain cells -

the million tiny molecules tried to guard like a unifying flea in the expanding space of the intellect! - We couldn't do it! Killer, self-digesting in a relentless form: we push, crowd and under the weight of daily robotics if necessary - not so much for starvation wages; we break under the stigma of fate!

In an apocalyptic snowstorm, an unbearable, prophetic wind cries out to Cassandra! The shadow of his coat is held together tightly, and with a penitent, bowed head, the vulnerable man stubbornly defies the restless, shackled elements of nature! In a self-limiting, exhibitionist world, the worker stretches his aching, lustful fibers like a worn-out, junk sweater! They also bleed into a rarely healing, constantly producing past wound; he kicks in silent silence, his sigh sighing softly among the bone limbs of trees, petal-moonlight swaying! Gray, melancholy shadows carve themselves into their flesh many times! Its color-worn, twilight-lipped wilting, grimacing grimaces, sneaky, little betrayals surround it like devilish cages-dreamy desires! - They flash and kiss, multiplying every day at diva-goddesses parade-***** parties!
 
Man turns to himself and makes an account. It contemplates like a vision image. Fear is also gradually impoverishing in him; and he blows on everyone without petty reasons, and he is angry at the retreat! - The Lack of our ruins started to become empty too! Being, as a soaring matchstick memory, itself is often extinct! The balmy-proud night would still deceive itself, but the half-hearted and hesitant twilight aches through the dilute darkness!
 
The wounded will soon perish! “Tiny light mutants dance all the way in the enchanted spells of eyes like interrogating like a collapsed pit, like the crying eyes of a sinless scapegoat! The minute-moment of contemplation of being is resting tachycardically!

Something lurks, a strong amber vortex sips and snorts, ******* out our life force; the remainder of our time doomed to mortality. Our shipwrecked days are dwindling at insane supersonic speed. As if it were no longer worth looking for new uninhabited Odysseus shores, where an oasis of peace and tranquility reigns unceasingly. The modern mass-man seems to be deliberately rushing towards his own uncertain Destiny, and does not intend to stop for a moment to ponder.

On the often merciless swing of life, everyone clings to the future in this way, it almost doesn't matter, since mortality was already decided at the moment of birth, so if we consider it unique, unrepeatable and finished. Fate is now certainly insurmountable and it is not really worth making peace with it, - thirst grows greedily and willfully in those who still choose the bare, visceral life. Whether life is a dream or a secret borderline of half-awakeness, Time unfortunately does not heal in the end, at most it can only alleviate the stigma wounds we have suffered.

- It would be nice to have a secret door cut into the wallpaper, where we can safely hide, deliberately selfishly tearing ourselves apart, and no one can ask meaningless questions about why we stayed inside, deep down we are all a little eternal children against absolute, strict adults. Sooner or later, the trace of grief is drawn on faces; let us still experience a pause of rest, even if - often the monotony and the curse of solid indifference flatten us.

Shamelessly long-successful procrastination of Being again! Remaining intent and will are already out of print! Some don’t care what a ****** percentage of reward-kitsch s wall! Out of cowardice, when it comes to everyone’s pathetic life, beware of color signs! What we wanted to be different seems like selfish goals on the junk horizon! The end of the track doesn't interest many enough, and everyone is wrong if they think the strange calm will come from within the Spirit!
 
As we grow up, we are constantly confident that we can survive our childhoods! Every memory of the past is slowly disappearing like a grain of wheat rolled out! Can a superstitious, whisper of love still flow into our honestly listening ears?! Or is it just all this incapable, alamus fad?! The light petals are still chasing someone else’s ash-blush! "As a rear-view mirror, you should look into each other's research-alert eyes one last time, discover what the other is most interested in!" In infinite Time, a small man trembles many times before himself, trembling; clowning and self-pity in the conscience is sure to fit! Defense lies in every attack! The calculated cowards of retreats often hair each other!
 
Loyalty is still leaking from dripping wounds! Everyone is just walking through the Congo rooms of Being

If you were to visit me again now, and I could only take you in my arms for a single, budding day - alas - there would be no more unnecessary words hiding under your palate! The endless, dazzling blueness of the sky would embrace the sandy land and the wail of the sea waves would caress the footsteps of your eternal immortal and fragile feet!

Illusions, daydreams and meaningless words cut into each other's heads in which we hibernated each other for a long time. It was unnecessary pretense, fleeting in itself! “What more would it matter if the Earthly Universe rediffered two broken souls to an unforgettable day? Now the same pain still hurts: On one side the desperate despair itself is lingering, while on the other it is hardened, yet a fragile snowdrop clings to the captivity of the forgiving Spring!

"If you were to visit me again now, I could only make mistakes in your heart clamps again." We could already know and guess clearly: Our immortal transcendence did have a message! - And there would be no other power than the power of kisses, if you visited it once: The earthly, long-lost harmony would greet you again in person.

and would occupy self-forgotten, worldly devotion! What’s left of us: The sublime clicks of Platonic serenades, romantic compliments. Just like the lost, wandering lover in abundance, there is a timeless message: The immortality of faces and gazes! Even now, you will shine brighter and brighter in front of me!

And I couldn’t go after you while your heart was shaking for someone else!

As a broken blow to couch silent; vile powers change hands as lingerie; the self-rescue movement fell voluntarily, the Infinite long ago destroyed! Something took hold of the selfish Souls and split! Bone-white, the faithful blinds stumble into the uncertain future! History re-sells itself with **** faith and serves everyone else instead of self-esteem! The Angels' redemption wings weigh heavily into sticky mud, for they are full of Twilight wounds at the base of their backs; in cages, puppies are devoured by bargained jackals - and there is no way out!
 
One-way streets are designated as intentional dead ends to make a possible career impossible from others! The little ******* chirping cute mini-lives are bustling yet because they can’t mouse paths to dance wobbly! The researcher, the vigilant moon, also became a blind man; he can only sit lame and motionless contemplating! In the Cosmos captivity of loneliness, only howling dogs can hear their judgment! The Seer fantasizes about dreams that have fallen into a well! And the thirsty one still follows dreams!
 
Judgment is constantly foaming at the contemptuous mouth of intestinal lepers because they cannot accept the changing differences! Worms are also raised in their selfish mirrors by exotic Beauties; today the World itself is tearing apart the threads that can bind Man-Man! Goodness can soon escape from ourselves and only the killer tuna selfishness remains! "Neither can people with spiked-mouths really be the ones to show themselves: there is a desperate maze of labyrinths on indulgent Faces.

As if aiming, huddling ever closer to the wall; he draws his superstitious eyelashes into a slit, thus peering at the deceived, continuously manipulated world. Forced to constantly measure the shortest distance between sincerity and lies, he measures, like some eccentric arbiter, the weight of the stake, which is a nest of betrayals and lies. Backwards in the stream of eternal moments, thinking himself over once more, he decides to look away after all. Inside, in the secret depths of his soul, he still keeps his seeing eye open; he still faithfully preserves the ability to see truly, which is not polluted by materialism or superficial exhibitionism.

He knows and suspects: only in the depths of the soul can the romantic dance of the one flame take place, which he has perhaps dreamed of his entire life, - he would immediately regain it if he could have that second of memory that was still liberated and free from everything, because inside there is an irresistible power over instincts and emotions, even the silent, mute human words, which do not need to be spoken at all.

- Like a desolate cauldron, the creative silence surrounds him, which - nowadays - is increasingly difficult to gain in a dignified manner. Like interstellar frontiers, humility and will would lie under a giant dome for days; melancholy, meaningless, petty worries and troubles swim in a large carnival crowd, like so many fish embryos in a crowd. He will slowly and subtly consume his spirit, every drop at a time, if he is not careful, because truer human stars are patiently waiting in the garden of golden hearts for them to be admitted.

When critics pierced my tar skull with pieces of ice drumming! Not a single missing shore could be reached without being so shipwrecked! Vermet-digging careerists threw killers and daggers, and the merit became caressing puppets because they could get an opportunity from Being to start something that had begun again! Anointed redeemers could not keep the Order, and the guarding prophets also slept and listened in silence instead of their Judgment words!
 
Thick-necked and small-style stici pups were plowed in narrow mouse paths; to become unfaithful natives to demotion who is Man because to stay?! Boiling jampec squirrels and disco kittens are making their way up the donkey ladder of the fashion trend, while their hazelnut brains are getting narrower! Even the proud civis proves only by text and not by his deeds; insane, no-man's-house Aarnoks get the job first because they know: the brain-shrinking **** has become fashionable! - Wrapped in flag jacket wings, you can't make a difference with a single garaboncia!
 
You can only run and tolerate like you know your loss! He who has constantly professed his convinced Truth is all being branded a treasurer and trampled wherever he matures! Lampshade is all about preparation! A worthy accomplice may still be skillful, but he cannot catch scapegoat mice! Rats zigzag between familiar pairs of eyes and easily betray each other when it comes to getting them! - In the channels of the night ether in the Eve costume, Angels parodying with single-stranded petal bodies offer their superstitious charms; perhaps they unconsciously imagine that they can get to know anyone in this form! Is the time of the guardian heads of families wasted?!

Even sometimes, during the day, you appear on a diamond column of stars, and in the lily-white courtyard of your swan face, the embers emotions that have died to ashes come to life! A barely visible spike barrier stabs forever haughtily holds the delicate petals of their hearts! Every tear we have ever consoled bleeds slowly and annihilated from our eyes. And a secret signal calls us from our lips!

I would have left long after you, but your oath of allegiance built an impenetrable barrier and imprisoned your independent love for me! I tried the contents of my pessimism more and more - now it would be so good and sublime to be here with me and comfort your charming courage for optimists and sprinkle my perforated soul full of confidence: I can't be Free for you!

Your disarming smile surrounds you and leads you astray — maybe I’m a pathetic, lame prisoner of emotional dead ends myself. The backwater of doubts now surrounds me, I can only avoid my selfish love-selfishness with you. You already know myself: My discouragement does not make anyone happy, even if I open my oak-thick arms with my face, I cannot be your protector, this proud task has long been taken away from me by someone else; my heart trembles and bleeds for you in vain, I cannot deliver you, nor comfort you!

Your blessed chirping voice said goodbye to me forever! Who is not led by a safe path through the path of existence, halfway there is a stumbling block! My loyalty wound for you is still throbbing and burning. The shackles of my pain are all cramping to me.

You see, you split the dawn with your bewitching beauty at once, just like the blood-red dragon-dusk; the latent flood of measured psychological weakness is already beneficially strangling you. Now all actions and thoughts are as crystal clear and clear as the scalpel blade or the masterpiece of the samurai sword, which never fails, only allowing seven heartbeats before it finally strikes. You see, the crouching, disgraced shadow spots of nights, like thirsty or greedy lead ores, goblins, crouching in their disappointment, waiting for their turn, because - but it often happens - not only the love of the Universe, believed to be immortal, but also selfish self-deception, is decaying into barren buds.

The ex-Dear greeted us with a mischievous smile embroidered in the sunlight, but many times, while our hearts only beat and trembled in unison. He broke the plaster of the holy moments he thought were eternal halfway, because as a result of the breakup, the Fate line of destiny was finally broken. You see, you use yourself again and again, if you still allow compliments and romantic confessions to be created and pickled under your lame tongue, even as an unfortunate, stupid sucker, your humility does not exalt you - but often it rather tramples you a lot, if you deliberately do not want to be careful.

The attractive, shining wedding rings of the eternal Infinite, which you have heard about so much, can hold deserved happiness and creative harmony, even for those who have rarely had a second chance, have been returned to your palm. Now you are like the shoreless, homeless shipwrecked person; The *****, difficult everyday life creeps up on you with cautious steps, burdening you, and you yourself do not know when the weakening lamps of your tired eyes will see sincerity and truth in the other; only the Time with the smell of the Executioner keeps your orphaned thoughts with you. - You still look at how the angelic mother leads her toddling child, and the eternal child often speaks to you in self-examination: "Why did you give up the well-deserved redemption of so many comforting, comforting hugs and caresses?!" - Your answers - at least for now, there are none, only the slimy, sticky self-preservation.

Because the unfair giggle, the nagging anger, is growing more and more - not only in the heart - but also in the darkening tunnels of the mind, then it clings to the inner instincts and senses of the person and surrounds him. Our words of apology also convey total disgust towards the otherwise completely superficial outside world. The gaps of fear in our panic are deliberately clogged with a hidden, yearning sigh for something nobler and better.

We don't know why, while others are rising on the petty, compromising ladders of such and such appreciation, the average person is sinking more and more, as if tons of lead weights were hanging on his feet.

The filth and the pile of objects that the light, summery wind is blowing towards you from somewhere are becoming increasingly intoxicating, and perhaps it is better if - in many cases - you say no instead of your unnecessary promises of yes; they splash the ancient driftwood of slander on you, because sometimes the scapegoat on duty comes and goes, and anyway someone has to do this too.

The suppressed joy of speechlessness would often be so good to release as pure spontaneity to the waves of the troubled and restless soul... Those who want to get anywhere at all may have to wait for a long time with throbbing throats, because people are pouring twenty thousand into sold-out concerts and festivals, and there is really nothing to see there except the faces of the party-goers. The stuffy buzz is becoming more and more crumbly, like low-fat pet food that has already gone bad.

Because in the flesh-purple ***** cavities - I fear - the bonfire of spark-spinning creativity no longer flies here and there. Bravely competing with troubles, quarreling and helpful Fate, where are you now?! Where have you hidden yourself, that it is impossible to even sense that someday, even with the existence of possibilities, everything will improve and even a weak person will voluntarily improve his selfish self!

Proud and light-hearted signs of neglect are everywhere, attracting every corner of the street, embracing them! The shadows of more and more hidden places on the alley balconies of the streets are growing! They are augmented by the false awareness that they can scare people with impunity while going to the nerves of others strained to the ground!

But even now the old houses stand majestically and on a proper hill: Shuttered shutters, indifferent caretakers proclaim the abundant peace that still remains! "Even though the street is an eternal, immortal noise-noise," he still keeps something of your indelible past: How far have you come? How do you achieve the curvature of your stretching track?

For it is in vain that ruthless darkness weaves a lasting cobweb around you as an untrustworthy trap - you do not know your broken tears, nor your suffering trapped in mud. Proud and light-hearted signs of desolation are everywhere, embracing every corner of the street.


The people here are just life-threatening wrecks, wounded ghosts! This big city is getting more and more unrecognizable, more and more dangerous! Suspicious gazes cling to you like sticky leeches like assassins and you know, even if you run away: Evil and jealousy are secretly sneaking up and uniting to plunder your universality!

A deserted street that lived better days - no flickering light. The stomach-turning silence before your doom moves into the sight of your eyes! You would run, flee to your angelic redemption unfolding in two eyes: But He must be far away while you are struggling with the demons of your own fears, fighting! S after dark starless hopelessness shackle s tie…

It seeps into human flesh, like chitin armor, because what started out beautiful and noble is constantly being torn apart; first love and only then the Universe believed to be immortal. For the secret, sacred-vowed eternal smile of two eternal bodies, as in the labyrinth of ineffable pleasure, forgetting about homesickness, unconscious floating, lasting weightlessness-intoxication begins. We will be doves and pigeons in the wake of the moon-spring, who simultaneously hold olive branches and perhaps rings, as circular, indestructible symbols of infinity.

We let each other into the home of our souls confidentially, because unnecessary words were not so necessary; a kiss caressed juicy fruits between sun-fluffy lips. The campfires of our hesitant hands are still faithfully preserved - even after twenty or so years - by the rays of trust instilled in sincerity. - Between our fingers, but often for moments of rest, only the sand of our Time has been spun through, with which we wrote footprints on the beach. The summery, light wind occasionally catches in our capricious seasonal words spoken to each other.

Like when we hunted for shells in the heart of the oceans, and the horn armor jealously guarded a true pearl. As if after so many years, we are still only learning, groping for the concepts of the uncertain Fate, which was intended for us alone as a gift; as if we were forever moving away but also approaching each other in rhythmic beats. We are forced to latently put to sleep our feelings for each other, since the breakup - who knows why? - is still hanging in the air. From our busy lives, repeated memories emerge!

The angel you once called your One-Beloved fell by deceiving himself through the Universe he believed to be immortal; her knees were scraped by the hurtful Martian ****, while her winged, sandaled ankles were adorned with an attractive tattoo as hieroglyphs. Her radiant star teeth also fell out one by one thanks to the laser teeth whitening he was so proud of and could be proud of. She hid his sincere heartbeat, because he could slightly believe that he had built an eternal city of sincere feelings in her heart.

Her inner gut instincts crowned her queen, but not for long, because where unfair possession emerged, the cosmic radiance woven from the soul could be felt less and less, when soul and heart became one. Her bronze-brown skin, caressed by the exotic island of Bali, was covered with sun-spotted scars; he thought that if he lost herself in the love she imagined to be immortal, you could later forgive her selfish tyranny to the true flesh, but he failed to steal herself back into you.

- Perhaps his only problem was that he always compared herself to others, made herself dependent on others, while he often forgot about herself and his personal differences of opinion. It would have been good to lie down in the rich creative filling with sincere will into the depths of harmony-silence and there to explore the primordial secrets of the soul with her heart's desire. - Later, perhaps she suspected that the permanent pit-abyss into which he voluntarily fell leads to a secret corridor-labyrinth, which everyone needs to cope with for themselves.

Surely the soul is now seeking refuge; unbelievers harm him, slaps him to pieces, because he is different in everything, even in separation. You cannot sit still, in the tender, forgiving lap of your sweetheart: Outside envy and evil eyes will lurk in your loneliness! The prison net destined for the ground will be strangled around you.

Stubborn, sly hands tearing into each other's hair tear the restless existence of the bulbs of the new life: A man is broken because he is light-hearted, and carelessness trampled on nothing, and now Nothing has become his eternal companion, and he suffers a heartbreaker! - Disgust and helplessness swamp me!

They will defile you too! They lie to you friendly, good-sounding truths, and they stumble upon each other, even the smallest dust-eye brakes! - The soul is now seeking refuge; unbelieving horse binders harm him. He certainly wants satisfaction, harmony and silence so that his life can continue on the bed again with a clean slate. She lets her face be caressed by redeeming female hands for as long as she can!

Only his loved one would still have the shaky conviction in it: His lucky star, who was thought to be wasted, had not sacrificed and let the Universe, which had long since received its desires, fall on its nuclei. "Your sweetheart will send you a wave of smiles, and you will doubtfully and half-heartedly say, 'Everything will be fine!'

"And you look at it with the ancestral sins of uncertainty." Unpredictable ignorance pretty patiently grinds every foot of your sanity! You view your things and changing nature, arranged with eternal immortality, as if you were already a tiny link in the end of the world!

In the complex fullness of moments, even a hesitant step can tread on a butterfly carelessly! With a swirling, frightened rainbow wing marching richly into proud freedom! Hesitantly tumbling, the lonely silence can also hurt: the eye perseveres searching for punctuation engraved in a wall, while the claw rays of the accompanying moonlight appear on a ominous veil of nights! We also deliberately closed the proud sighs of our eloquent words to our hearings!
 
In no man's land a wreath of thorns has been woven out of sorrow! Wounded resentment is more easily absorbed into the depths of the Spirit; the burden of accents can permeate every well-groomed, spicy sentence because it is throbbing and present, like a sick plague! As a child orphaned by ugly deeds: I am embarrassed with terrified eyes at the same time, and I do not know if you will be complimented by a merciful, angelic goodness in the manner of Don Quoijotek. "I can only let silent anyone I sincerely want!" My melancholy pleasure, immersed in lethargy, would still be good to share with the babysitter; in the captivating Universe, we could all be together even in the moods we can experience, and it would be unnecessary to further complicate the rules of our secret childish rhymes in a hundred ways!
 
The smallness of our details is often heard through the purities of decipherable communications; the latent curses of envy-jealousy are already crystallizing in the marshland of hateful temper! There is no longer much meaning in the word consolation, where human intention alone can make up tempers! - Disembodied anxious, great dreads in the depths of eternal-childish souls: the smell of rotting rot flows in prodigal hearts! Even in my few minutes of imagination, it was enough to marry misleading lies! It is better to get out at the very beginning from the protection of conceivable emotions, and let the snowman alone melt into the beautified memory of summer

With frozen human will, he already seems unable to step out of the comfort zone. The alley cell forest of faces accelerates the already accelerated time. Standing ant-offspring propagate their useless footsteps down there. To love with others: a burgeoning betrayal of loyalty. - Even now, the most popular phrase is conscious star-ghosting loneliness.

When the love nest is full and the glassy existence is whitewashed. ****** scars cover the heart's pulsating parts everywhere. The diminutive disagreement also degrades itself into an expensive-cheap drama. It is as if the power of touch, of feelings, is constantly defrauding of common sense instincts.

The shadows suddenly increase and they must lose the moment that is considered to be stopped; the treacherous romance is that you can't make your eyes out enough. Do you need body-cab prostitution to operate the needs of life ?! "It would be better for the immortal universe to heal itself with werewolf blindness."

 In the urban jungle of the ruins of the outskirts, the cell-spiral of haunting moonlights and the musicality of the gradually encircling, taming shadows can always be useful against the ghosts staring at bamboo. Most people today are exhibitionist stateless: they leap out of a relationship into independence while they spend their family time on career building. - Our face is in vain for an oppressive, ambitious break.

The will of interest has long been divisible. If we could remain a prophetic shard, an unrecognizable spark riddle would be a more acceptable tolerance to the dark shadows of mirrors!

There was only one twilight. Like celestial bombs, a chorus of flying, whistling grenades, a roar of wild hyena when they wound the sky. I still carry the invincibility of adolescence - in vain - even now! Perhaps the biggest of my blunders is the unresolvable compliment emotion I vowed to Someone!

- My shoulders are now multiplying and thickening with unquestionable and recurring tasks! Soon, it will signal a change of era again, with proud overtones at midnight and my grief at puberty, that the hearts of ladies did not need my romantic trophies, my hot dream visions will germinate quickly in me! I haven't whistled about the problems so far,

in a whispering incognito among people, I waved well. The night had reached the end of the day with its terrifying goblins, and as a minor concern, as excess was set aside once in a while - I will be forgiving. Time, now, is still rushing like a quarrelsome express train:

I should slowly find a companion in this crowded hustle and bustle. Surely we should laugh at the many fools, thus getting drunk on the extinct and uninhabited vault of the street and gates; fetrengeni day length: True this is now the last day of an forgivable year, and perhaps the last, unfortunate countdown! Moon-eyed frozen hoarfrost spit barbed wires towards us when frozen, indifferent, snowy rain falls! "I'll be standing here for thirty years soon, and I still don't know: Did my imagination play a deceptive game when our gaze met forever, or did he teach him less than a student?"

GORDIAN KNOTS OF SHIPWORTHY SOULS


Perhaps it is no longer possible, and there cannot remain such a restless, compromising night, when my soul, wandering like a free bird, would leave the prison cage of my straggling, shipwrecked body and set out on a journey; because I ponder a lot, I grind my own tightrope-walking, eternal-childish nerve: how and how could I have come to trust people who, with a light wave, tricked me over the fence and I have not looked back now, to see if that unfortunate chubby Don Quixote who didn't give a **** about the dog, who I am, lives or dies in this melancholy, indifferent decade?!

My increasingly stubborn, firm silence may still contain aborted fever dreams, if gold could be pressed from the treasure-seeking soul, perhaps even ordinary people could be much more satisfied and richer - of course, if we do not count the exaggerated outlook on life of the material mass consumer society. Halfway between petty soul traps, only one counterargument may remain in my favor: somewhere, perhaps, a little hope for me to still want to live may still be stirring in the envelope-dark seas of placentas.

Now it doesn't hurt to take care of myself, because no one else will. The world is now increasingly the domain of creeping ****, and of more base, two-faced worms, on a secondary, dispensable basis. Their stinking vulture-dog-mouths deliberately absorb the creative-inspiring treasures of culture and knowledge, which are then condemned to destruction by a whole series of brainwashed sermons, so that we never have to think about it. We gradually throw away the distinguishable quality marks of our personal humanity; Fate casts its concentric circles one after another, like a large fishing net over our unsuspecting, naive heads; the eternal baton of life and death - perhaps - is often one and the same!

People now only take one step forward, on a rope without a net; they rarely pay attention to their precarious balance - in their calculated manipulative movements they still listen to the gears clicking in their brain, the pressing impulses of their steps, even the blocked calm. Perhaps they should practice the appearances of reality in their dreams, which are still tangible. With their prosthetic teeth grinding, they would rather greedily eat fried meat or fish fillets without bones.

People will probably never be as low as they are right now, and they will never be able to reach a certain middle-class standard, because from their meager salary they can only pay their debts forever, endlessly. - Their contemporaries are sighted colorblind; perhaps they don't even want to see and notice what the Present projects before their eyes with its telephoto lens. This is how they manufacture their buried excuses and carry them as guilt. Even the nothingness of everyday life is increasingly stared at with increasing fury by brainwashed, wild idiots.

Nameless snakes writhe under their feet, because it is a dethroning emptiness, and unconscious indifference would just as easily scratch out each other's eyes today, because it can do so, that all its misdeeds remain unpunished; the past useless years knock on stilts above their heads, because birth repeatedly counts down the meager life. They push the scenery of a bad conscience before their eyes, because they have to scaffold around the canvases of action and will with false words and promises. It would be good to neutralize the intended germs of evil every now and then!

In the middle of the night, brooding, searching for the wings of blind, uncertain instinct, I boarded the roller coaster of my memories; I circled around in a listless spiral, while halfway through creaking, missed, scattered sighs, I searched for eternal names, who were once by my side. The questions that remained silent, eternally to be decided, never came to an answer: who chooses whom on the tiny scale of glass-shard loves, and whether an intimate, fulfilled flirting moment can be a red or black dot?!

Somewhere secretly, perhaps, a warning bell is already beating wildly in my brain: "Wake up to reality, because - perhaps - the next day you may find yourself other determined, half-hearted acquaintances and friends who will not even accompany you to your grave!"

- It would be good to have some kind of encouraging, comforting encouragement before the long journeys, which I mainly prepare for when dubious magic words or nice deeds lead me astray, just like the well-sounding promises. Perhaps it would have been better to lock everything up in the hourglass of dreams, because time is valid - I can't believe it - counting down, rolling back.

Resounding blessings are still squeezed halfway into the conscious rhythm of monotony; because like an old, unexpected hurricane-storm, sooner or later I had to face the irreversible, bone-crunching old age, which - a pity also deny -, a kind of socially unspoken uselessness, when even a dog is not interested in humans. A distorted-looking World conceived in petty manipulations, with creaking defiance, with my head bowed, I would rather remain in my soul free will, if it is no longer possible!

Your thoughts drew the almighty trace of your swan legs in the sand. Your handsome eyes carried a coral star! In an uninhabited sand desert, the two of us shook hands half-naked, and we waited for the patient intimacy to just greet us, and quietly to be influenced by the all-pervading emotion: The heart-secret of our immortality!

Sea foams licking shapeless rocks embrace gracefully, stretching; he thought he had forgotten, a dream come true you live again and then disintegrate again. I put my feet timidly after your footprints, and the surface holds shapes that can be formed from fine-grained sand.

But what else would I have been looking for here when you hadn't traveled in a long time, and I, too, only through your brainwaves, I thought terád? More than anything, your eternally nicknamed, chattering mouth, which was condemned and punished on the Day of Doom, said: You cannot deliberately find an antidote to sincere Truth once you have taken it prisoner!

I was there in all the material to be changed: In your joy and sorrow, in the waterfalls of the tears of your eyes, I was there! And yet in your excessive lightness, you did not appreciate me! Invisibly, I still keep an eye on your priceless life, and I still don't know myself: Why is it necessary and necessary, as an ancient protector, to chatter after you?

If I had committed a sin against you, you could have felt it a long time ago: for your heart struck like a fool and rumbled! "We've become each other's dearest, saddest poisons: You seduced me with the sweetness of chocolate, and I wore the chains of my compliments embracing you proudly while giving you a chance!"

Night is falling. The soul mourns with tears. The haunting silence would quench her. Nagymaros has become a glowing island! As the last survivor of Atlantis, tell me what will happen to you? Ultimate shelter was ruined by the next rampage, hurricane mouths, squeaky fury! - I'll still be here, if at all
i need something!
 
There was a whirlwind all week, rapping lines all day long - silencing the immortality of letters among the ruins of pages! As a character, I sent you a text message, deaf to your ears, so that your evocative memory will never forget what ever burst into the tunnels of our soul between us.
For a long time, we were only aliens, uninhabited continents, orbiting each other independently.
 
A paradise of hearts, dear immortal The universe was dreamed about by the deceived thought: We are stupid! "Perhaps the Heart is sitting in peace with you now." In your apartment: Inaugurated, ready for your new life, your common household. The floor is covered with children's toys and legos building blocks.
To relax? Or do you just smile with your perfect romance? - You don't know it, except on secret roads. You felt that way you had to do it because it demanded your emotional Rended, your biological clock soaring and agile ticking!
 
Your hands on your belly proclaiming fertility, your ancestor's womb, are surprised to find out: Baby Mature Care Made Mature! - Late hours are often haunted by alley glances. Naughty, naughty fairy or whoever gets hurt, move on!
 
The chocolate waterfall of your chestnut hair is still floating in front of me - I comfort you from afar. I'd water your dear heart with a lighter salty distillate, but it can't! Whispers in your ears: Your almond eyes were more burning than lava! My aching eyes just amaze, you are still vulnerable to eternal love!

Perhaps one day we will rise from the deepening pits of penniless bad manners, of deliberately provoked wild-**** Tahoeism, into which we were pushed primarily by more famous, word-wielding people as a kind of primitive, bargain-making, compromising corduroy. We will jump up like the hopping, modest grasshoppers from the watery, swamp-smelling puddles of assertion. One day we will safely jump to our feet from the webs of everyday propagandistic lies, in which we have been lying increasingly indifferently and sluggishly for many decades now;

We listened to the pleasant yet utterly false and ambiguous words of "the fence will be made of sausages" and how we had to constantly mock sports, because anyone with just a single, unnecessary lump of fat or a crackling fat-snag is not worthy of being friends with or accepted as a human being. Whoever said "what is in their heart is in their mouth" was first given a deliberately reduced salary increase, later his invisible bonus, cafeteria, and vacations that only existed on paper, and later they just beat the poor unfortunate man in the face with a broken jaw or two.

Maybe we'll get up one day, if we don't just lie there quietly, if we've had enough of the fast-acting brainwashed rascals who have reduced us to - we're often at the point where, with the push of a single nuclear red button, even professional magicians can make half the world disappear, just because the interests of the great powers demand it.

We'll rather repaint the hypocritical posters of cynical, skeptical poster forests into some kind of still-life-scented idyll, where, with an idyllic mood, everyone down to the last human being can be happy and satisfied at any time; later, we can proudly, perhaps with a shrug of the shoulders, make the secrets public, so that the newly objectified facts, actions, and consequences can be researched by the wellheads of future ages who want to think!

The wedding ring of glass plates rolled in dark eyes; how much psychological recognition does it take for the eternity of the moment? Who cherishes the gates of the Universe that shine like human stars, and would you call them with a smile sincerely? On the bodies of Adam and Eve, the sweaters, the enchanting oaths whispered to the loving lips stick to each other as Beads of Truth: The self-rule of “I love you”! "Mysterious Wild West door squeaks signal a distress predictive of the siege campaign of cooling winds!" In our idyllic dreams we could be deep wells falling into ourselves and discovering the childlike essence of the other truthful in the lake mirrors of our souls, while we could cling to each other like snoring buckets!
 
Even in the face of each other, we tied our perpetual games in such a way that we can learn the rules of survival more boldly even in ever denser masses of love! Like ten dim and fierce wildcat eyes - so we watch in silence, out of ambush this unworthy Big World! In itself, with real honesty to illuminate the recognizable fear of a real Colombian deed! Like discovering insidiously vulnerable sins in heartbeats that betray ourselves! - When did nicknaming seductive stars tell true truths?
 
When we learn to cherish in another, the orphaned love can be brought together again by the all-embracing Loyalty! We could not deny our mutual compromises, while in the unfolding Universe of flaming kisses we felt to break out and always renew the other

CAVE OF BROKEN SELF-MOSAICS

Who knows how long it has been since you could not be whole?! Like a puzzle mosaic, I try to put you together with increasing difficulty, until Time flows halfway between my misguided fingertips; even then, the Sisyphus-heavy task could be eased quite calmly a little. In the cave of your soul, besides the emptiness nicknamed permanent, the conscious awareness of lack also digs deep, according to which: How and how should you act, so that you can tolerate those who constantly surround you and the great, sluggish, cruel world, which has been laying eggs on your ideas from the beginning?!

More and more people are playing deceptive games with you, manipulably unnoticed, and - I fear - what is absolutely irreversible cannot be reversed, no matter how much loyalty or all-conquering humility may struggle. You have turned to spiral paths of dislike - not only out of necessity, but because life with a capital letter, of which you are unfortunately a part, has brought you this way.

You could barely control your inner, untamed instinct; your hurt childish self-esteem suffered geller wounds in seconds. No matter how much you tried to rein in your scheming genies - I fear - they would be the ones who would trip you up first, or just keep kicking you further down the donkey ladder of existence as they please - your harmful demons are struggling because they are rootless, and you cannot understand the Morse code ciphers of the Self that has not yet betrayed you. Fate is now an even more lurking beast into whose eyes the uncertain present forces you to look wolfishly several times a day!

One after another, like well-developed wax figures, bounce down from the Ferris wheel of the city of Nineveh: first drunken, saucy brats, later disco rats proclaimed as cool party faces, chirping teenage queens, who are primarily interested in the media and the beauty industry and have no intention of taking an advanced high school diploma or taking an English language exam. They may not be accountable to anyone but themselves, because they are rushing through the already confusing, drafty decades, when nothing is what it seems; even pretend friendships can no longer save them from their sullen loneliness.

The sluggish boredom of the senses is still reflected in their gullible instincts. They may still pay dearly for their lives. They rarely wake up from their unconscious quarantine dreams to the warning crowing of the rooster at dawn; on the one hand, they are not interested in the already uncertain and shallow Future, on the other hand, they find themselves in the certain knowledge that as long as their ancestors take care of everything for them, life will shower them with new idyllic gifts.

The streets, littered with ***** and burnt cigarette butts, are still weary in their remaining fatigue, and the equality of opportunity believed to be solid for survival, or survival, cannot particularly kick a ball for them. Clinging to the porches of their teeth, lame pity curses itself just like stretched tolerance, because the fact of safe crossing has become unconsciously meaningless!

Wrap up in the thought of everyday departure! You may know: shelter is rare if you can provide you with posterity! Your sinful city will not allow a rightful liberation where you could never have been truly free! Your usual commentary and platinum-fattened text is always laughed at by light-hearted lazy worms! V.I.P.-volunteer parties are holding themselves with a chick-catcher, scout-commando on the shore of Lake Balaton duck swimmer! "You were a cowardly pull that you took the initiative in your life and you could hardly notice that they wanted to speak to you!"
 
With your face you grimace a constant boyish sadness and play arbitrarily, because your existence is still an entrenched escape! Only a few affordable, wandering phones can connect you to this ****** outside world right now! Your support can only be childish repentance now; while you, as members of your family, will slowly, bitterly become bitter! In his perfect nihiled years, however, you would have done better if you were squeezing the ducks of your immortal Beloved! The freedom of the thinker in the atrium of a gendarmerie perth has long since expired!
 
Even diva-vampires don't taste cup-glasses, they just pick them up and squeal them! After the surprise, the season of the landing branch can always come! In his own way, everyone is already teeming with selfish catastrophes of intoxication; barely picked up annual figures fall out one after another! Party service runs everywhere, but if they don’t bloom Judas ’money freezes soon! "Overnight promises of steaming bodies will soon be demanded by muscle gorillas!" The self-infection of party-swallowing parties is so total-complete.

Someday I will find out where your bumpy, misunderstood Sisyphusian path would have taken you, if you had had enough girlish, daring, determined will to stay with me; beyond the clever and troublesome quarrels of life, like someone searching for a secret Apocryphal riddle, I once followed you, while, deceiving my wounded heart, I believed that the immortal Universe would hold us by the hand forever.

Following your tiny thirty-two footprints on the snow-white sandy beach, when you sacredly insisted that we wait until the mother turtle lays her eggs and crawls back into the foam with silent sloth-indolence, - then I dared to believe that perhaps even the chain of meaningless connections can have meaning after all.

What a pity it was when I called you on my mobile and you spoke into the channels of the invisible ether in a sleepy, languid voice, whereupon my eternally childish soul began to hope again: "Hello... here you go..." - I was a bit like someone who deliberately daydreams on the way towards the foggy visions of unreachability.

In the corridor of my dream, you held my trembling hand with loyalty, like an enthusiastic guide, and you led me through the dark and desperate situations towards the grasping of opportunities and promises - now you have shrunk to a point that wants to get further and further away, and I don't know if I will ever see you again?! The molecular vacuum of guts and instincts is pulling you further and further into itself, into some unknown empty distance, from which there may be no possible way back.

Lazily and self-forgetfully you would melt away in mischievous laughter, when you got your breakfast in bed every morning, leaving a host of crumbs, so that you can stretch out your limbs that have started to become stiff like a nimble exotic cat - this is where we should have gathered our shared memories, because you gave your word. I wonder how many more times the sick heart will beat before it can find a home and shelter again?!

You haven't looked at me for a long time! Now you lived more for yourself and your family! Who in the time of earthly afflictions you were a lily-valiant, now a mother or a successor to the next throne. "Because there is still an unfortunate, clumsy, chubby son with whom and jokes and jokes could still be pursued freely - and his selfless, loving compliments were his innocent little attitudes, the main ones being good, humble."

tact. In the distance of the earth, you cheered my soul out with your mischievous laughter, you let me worship you in self-sacrifice. And now, among the junk alleys of my memories, I think of you in front of me! Who is your hair-slender body, your fragile lily hand, now blessing your self-luck with blessing that it can be with you?

To your fragile swan hands, who with their velvet caresses have forgotten all the dangers of the earth, now who has poured rich tears of joy? "I can't ask you what's left in my independent imagination forever: the penetrating flame of your Almighty smile,

the tweets of your chirping-melodic voice! "You taught me the little joy of being." I spent perhaps the most precious crumbs of my life - how irresponsible, light-hearted and careless I was to let you out of my holey hands: My prolific calm and good luck!

I intended all my spiritual treasures for you now - because life is a Rubik's Cube, you can never guess which side is responsible, lucky for unexpected decision situations? - Please wait! Don't run away yet! Upside Visegrád, a nightmare moonlight looks at you and shines your faint face in its light! Your children are already washing - if the lesson was responsible - they have been asleep for a long time,

but you lie restless in the presence of the awake consciousness and only imitate your automatic breathing so as not to arouse your husband! "Remember you were angelic music among the shackles of my gloom, and it's up to you to stay yourself."

The details are almost irrelevant. Outside, petty pigeon races are tense if necessary, if not to each other, and even so, it is always sure who the actual winner is. The simple average one way or another, but it is untig and totally fed up. The ***** stuffed into the cetrifuge, like the everyday Michael's things - not even noticed - are surprisingly suddenly wandering and tangled so much that it is easier to cut through the Gordian knot than to decipher the pathetic, manipulative, Studies and people keep.

It is necessary to be stretched over and over again decades ago, otherwise they will be permanently separated and threatened with passing; Because the relationship of depth and height to balances is now a sticky mud or small -style puddle, in which one and a half mattle innocence are swirling so that they may be filthy to the spot of their souls.

The decayed smile on the faces was fossched because they had secretly believed in the swamp of the uncertain tomorrow, and even if, out of accident, a plan or idea of ​​a lost misunderstanding was rather prone to the peculiar banner.

Visible Angels Choir-Kara, who often puts his gentle hand on his heads, and the Jericho trombones echoing from the air, as if they were blowing alarms, the indispensable universe ...

In love, too, it is the most difficult to explore the meaning and essence of the very first volcanic eruption minutes, timed bomb moments: The temperature of goodness, the idyllic Hope, when the bombing kisses are at war with each other, they hope for a truce. In a broken heartbeat, in the biological recognition of cells, everything already exists together and in a chain connection! He sat only for about four years, and the Heart, like the Prisoner, endured with tension: He even knew and proclaimed fulfilled immortality! Yet when the musical clatter of others' lips was heard he suddenly tore apart

on the secret, cohesive spider threads of the Past, it was no longer possible to bring back: s Whoever broke through the murderers stealing the romantic scene in the provable Janus oath, was disappointed again! Between two extremes, the momentary remembrance moves away: The naked Truth sins in the Fall: And for Morality is already a commandment, a seductive lock of hair,

flirtatious, the reddish-brown gaze of redemptive Jocondas is enough to allow recklessness as a **** to grow into common sense - And ready is the digged, live-buried, breathing coffin: To whom we intended their lives as sacrificial offerings, it turned out that Judas was unforgivable, an ancient sinner! "Like a beast, an unbridled, silly, and unmanageable fly."

instincts also overwrite the correlations of your fed, sober brain codes; the ****** of the Universe has already slipped out of your hands with unyielding intrigue anyway! And if imagined days of harmony no longer favored you: because they betrayed you, left you alone, and threw you out: Don’t be ashamed, don’t give in to coercive relationships unless your Laws of Heart allow it! - It started for eternity, a lasting memory is still burning in you, fluttering richly: You just let your bitter crater tears drip!

In the depths of closure almost immediately, why do we feel that life and death are still impatient on the threshold of existence?! From here, every time of every spiral circle closes early until you are confused about it. We can't even start with a breath of breath, as our daily cumbersome days have become more and more counts, so they can be measured and measured when, where, how much they made a mistake for us.

The roses in the depths of the heart were called twilight, which, if they thought, was deliberately blocked in the coronary tunnels, the molecular networks of free oxygen flows in the coronary arteries. At a bus stop, it is almost palpable not only a manipulative tool for massed psychosis, but a silent infarction that grows as an atomic bomb, calling for almost always late attacks as a diving bell.

The mucus bile in the stomach, as if it were to give birth to kaleidoscopy over and over again, and on mirror pieces, infants should learn to understand once and for all: their lives will never be a romantic fairy tale or a nice foam cake. The wreaths of heart -shaped gingerbread may not have been really crumbs - they were digested by uncertainty that medication or durable food should be purchased.

In the brain -era of nonsensical phrases, one would become more and more desired towards an unparalleled life, as a sweet -sad, childish nostalgia, because he feels and knows -perhaps -he can hardly be a second sans. Now, we are struck as a fish in intentional subordinates as a fish for another forced time!

Maybe - then one day this disbelieving katyvas, an obsessed idyll, a futile self-branding that many consider the secrets of my heart will end. What was this drowning air resistance, a volcanic eruption? A short but more lasting successful armament with the power of Words. - See orphan, my pessimism left to me is forced to chase me because it has nestled in the target of my head and my whole life has been

hesitant to insecurity, one-time escape! "I would have liked to have laughed proudly at the World in your arms, but I could not take heart and never forgive you or myself: Silver ice beads shattered your sincere face like true beads!" "Now that you really aren't physical, but maybe you're standing next to me with spiritual smoldering faith, I still don't know if I'll listen to wise advice and destroy you forever from the island of my desires if you ask: Why my tearful vulnerability?" Then maybe he will answer for me! After all, it was so good to sit with you in prison benches, to sit in shackles, miserable, and to rest, and to watch and watch with my persistent patience: the throbbing hammering of your sweet heart as it enters

to a more private terrain, and how comforting and reassuring your overwhelming victim, which you have brought for me, when, in the midst of the hunger of starving wolves, he has lifted my bleeding honor, the human hills of my morals, to the wings of your angelic patience.

We stand alternately on the platform. We stand in the changed Time; we follow the side sound of blind tracks purely, disciplinedly unceasingly. Here the joy of existence is that we dare to get up and hope again - what was once priceless and perhaps most precious!

Blood clots lift up rocks, tiny dams, wordless in us, like silent murderers who silently sit down and ****, choking alive! The final fragment of Being is now scattered with monotonous and melancholy indifference, while under the surface the devouring death moves and bites…

The year-ring of the seasons is placed on our faces: The broken tears of snow, soot and sky send their sky-whining messages to us! "We are only digested on our own, and we are free to digest us in degrees of self-pity!"

With the gaping black threat deep in our hearts, the flowering spring and summer of the missed happier years stares at us. The cradle of the mundane universe of life, in which innovative love may have been conceived! -

This is how we stand, we stand and wait in the hope of a safer start, and we do not realize under the surface secretly and individually how much of its hidden weight and driving force is the secret mechanics of the richness of forgotten details, the chain of small fragments! And if we are mistaken for a single moment in sure uncertainty - the obscurity of the future alienates us!

Let’s ask ourselves the eternal One-Question: Where did I have to start, and how long do I understand ?! "Desperate abandonment and abandonment is our most patient killer, because it doesn't ask much!"

I have no idea to tell you the vault of your beautifully curved cherry lips, or just the petrified, chilled solitude of my bed? I don't know if I should tell you about the loneliness of the empty bunch of flesh that once threw mightily at the glances of heaven, at the words of flirtatious angel eyes, - yes, when the delicate vibration of the Spirit opened the bouquets of flowers,

and the blessed conscience also responded with tremor, devotion, faithfulness, and selflessness! - We marvel at the disappointing present: What did we do together in a storm of passions was only an edited draft of our disappointed unhappiness? - In the end, the same thing always pulls and strings, taking care of our heartbeats in spacious handcuffs when I daydream

about you to shake off the snares of my dreadful nightmares permanently you no longer pay attention to me: If you sacrifice to someone else with the fidelity of kisses I stubbornly, I waver! An overly hasty year is coming again, with our idyllic daydreams - maybe the wire-spike of our disappointment will still embrace us. And I know not what I may say, that I may pray with thy feet.

what would I whisper as a confession to your wounded eardrum, gently into the purple-vaulted vault of your lips. In exile of pain, it would be good to hold on to the teeth of the universe for sure, permanently and to feel the balm touch of your dark and drained amber hair with harmony. It would be good to know

that your immortal laughter, there was no fault in your elf patience as I groped for your sparkling light every single day, and I would have your wishes as blind moles.

Man - even if he tries to be careful - wears the tattooed black stripes of days and nights; he will notice that he falls back without a trace into the paradise of silent stealth, to remain a little invisible or even unnameable in semi-incognito. The total chaos of indefinability is now increasingly trying to become a part of conscious everyday life, but not for long.

That man is now increasingly surrounded by crooked, interrogating mirrors, which keep the vile cult of superficial, meaningless exhibitionism still trendy and fashionable. If necessary, if not permanently, a talkative, sloppy noise swirls. Being - often - is also a fussy, irresistible One, because the cobweb of conscious oblivion would surround it.

The busy, upside-down decade is also more likely to sharpen sword blades and train atomic bombs; no one remembered, perhaps didn't even really think about, the red buttons that would trigger, or even the snapping trap of parentheses. Only suspicion, the ancient suspicion lingers for a long time, like someone who has secretly stopped in the doorway of a deserted, garbage heap; a crypt-smelling, cadaverous shadow still looks back and forth. Because the game of life seems to have been arranged on the chessboard of birth, and the straw puppets that can be pulled only hang here and there between the strings of Time, which they cannot yet understand.

Man remains more and more closed in on himself, because he knows exactly that out there in the World - fear - that with education and professional knowledge it is not certain that he would be able to do anything, although he may know: but it would be good to shake off all unnecessary ******* from himself completely, but his soul cannot open its rusty keys anytime.

On the edge of centuries that are spinning in time, language - I'm afraid - no longer recognizes itself; we know well that even at the dawn of modern digital civilization there are continents that are beyond the reach of God, where public utilities, internet or Wi-Fi connections, television, DVD players, Bluetooth wireless headphones, and a series of unnecessary cyber-gadgets do not exist. As if they were intentionally cut off, or just blocked, from the broad horizons of technological revolution.

The fishing-hunting-gathering lifestyle, as a kind of settlement lifestyle model - I'm afraid -, is already starting to take root in Central Europe. As if some deliberately accelerated fermenting rot had already moved in everywhere using general methods. Barren jungles intoxicate their traveling explorers. Now, they are increasingly deliberately leaving every trivial, trivial decision or fateful debate unanswered; as if they knew in advance what would happen if anyone contradicted or spoke up.

As if so many creative, harmonious thoughts should be born from stones, because the World is now a single, closed Columbus egg, which is better not to disturb or break. It seems as if everyone has deliberately gotten lost in this big, stinking, *****-smelling Reality that has neither end nor length; we constantly tell stories of suffered, survived childhood dreams that constantly return due to a conscious lack of love, according to which; we did not become superheroes, film directors, actors with sticks, or clown artists flirting with dangers, so that we would have cast out Death.

As if in our real lives we have already weighed the tiny coupons of the redeemability of Being among ourselves on a scale, hoping to hit the lottery numbers. And while we are daydreaming, we fall back into the average black-and-white everyday life of sobering awakening, where everything is flat, unfriendly and the same!

Because now, not only the nights or the days are getting heavier and heavier, more pregnant – but the materialization that can be experienced viscerally in the world on the universal colonies of soullessness; the desire to trust, the naive-childish longing for hope – fearful – is no longer reminiscent of the whining child and his complicated adulthood. And yet, the great resistance, as a kind of disenfranchised, usurping rebellion, is only just beginning. Now, the so-called big-time usurers are just now having to sacrifice themselves on the altar of cheap, no-man's-land little paid lies.

If you get a hundred thousand as a gift, at least you'll give it back, even if it's a million and a half at the price of your pitiful head. You can still find a manageable expectation for anything with which the other can be easily influenced, and like a wax figure, you can still be pulled. A throwaway nothingness is left behind, scraped from the depths of a landfill or from the squalid filth of street corners, because – as we know – the afterlife is also increasingly vulnerable, and perhaps more vulnerable.

Every morning start is also a sure and lasting longing for a satisfied escape, that you would have to change even if you have been running away from yourself as a vulnerable shipwrecked Robinson Crusoe your entire life; you have often fallen into greater, more brutal pitfalls, like an angel whose wings were clipped. You could never take to heart the petty, petty life-and-death grip of cats and mice, because you have experienced the horrors of small, cruel amusements on your own skin every day!

In the folds of the crypt chain of your face, the invisible moves with you and Time is getting old! The exaggerated eyes of selfish people don’t take the point either: a real victim of vile dream image weights; how can a sausage fence be fenced on the porches of possible appearances And the eternal second fiddlers are already ahead of the winners! - Initially, a cat-and-mouse resists the dictated formulas of Time Changes that Measure Existence with trying competition, and the no-escape gift of the vicious circle is knocking headless over our heads!
 
Constant depth and sudden height embody the zigzag of cheap, easily cracking ladders of beaten careers! As one who has already deliberately become familiar with himself in the Secret of Death, he can only confess himself to himself now in all confessions! “Inaccurate, restless accelerating Hopes for Life can gradually erase our past memories that we all clung to together! So it's not good to mix with squeaky mass misery! A creative-active personality should not be allowed to be ****** in by crowded stagnation!
 
On its own, it often uses more when we walk than matured autumn-leafed, silent trees! What pattern can we use to achieve the desired consciousness of happiness?! As a ragged clay man, we force several pseudo-personalities at once out of compulsion on ourselves; our crawling selves will all be on a leash! We should treat everything with a protesting self in a friendly way! The stubborn denial of our slashing selfishness still increases our lack of self-confidence! Why is there always a smell of threat that is consciously unknown?! The final destruction can be felt bone-penetrating

Life just wouldn’t be so unbearably complicated. Don't pay bills, utility debts, lean-earning bums Judas pennies would depend on Everything, the point: You can live if you don't spend anything on yourself anymore, even in the condominium you call your supposed home, but you don't use your elevator politely your inner circles!

Just wouldn't romance be vulnerable. In his blood-red-twisted wounded lips, two orphaned Human Stars stood, perhaps ready to confess, and trembled for moments as the atomic bomb minute erupted, passed, and the loser-kissed, eternal losers guard the delicate, fragile trembling of the Almighty! While the half-nail is in love practicing with new deployment practices!

I just wouldn’t have so many half-nails, thoughtful, and foolishly charming tutyimutyit that ***** knife tips if you approach with his light the sun’s rays get in my sweetheart’s hair. Wherever I act, I compliment you as an enthusiastic, squeezing troubadour and serenade even with a plucked guitar - as a stick-ear - as an overly enthusiastic amateur, and face the possible possibilities of seduction with us!

He sneaks at us because there is nothing in vain, and because there is no responsibility and no will, but the ever-present, current currency! "We all know — and yet, when we confront the possible True as we wink at us, a diminishing sense of shame nestles in them: The Failure is that we have approached with the responsibility of dishonest intent."

An unshakable ***** of this mihasna to Earth; he puts his coat together with needle showers on his face and goes on gritting! Kneeling-blowing, roaring winds blow into the eyes of tearful Calvary! The firm confessions of his wounded soul can be humbled to tears! It forces insidious evils, committed, brazen sins, to account! - He still goes to the ***** and is not reluctant to arrest human objects either; indifferent, phlegmatic texts would rock the crumbs of Truth witnessing in his soul! In his fallen eyes, he carries a Judgment woven from a branch of blood lilies against traitorous bitangers!
 
His face is still a long-forgotten Stranger! Trembling in the fog! As a deliverer from the ancient depths of caves, the silly does not interfere with Being; as the Hermit Prophet listens and gathers into himself the experience that has taken place of facts! "Black, melancholy herds are trampling on your aching stigma wounds!" His tempers, which fall into silence and beat to the soles of his hands, are still in store before the strained explosion! He reserves words to deliver the fear of fall only to the eternal Universe!
 
My pleasure creeps behind the coat shadow! Woe to the Winners now! - his judgment creeps! All the supplies of adolescence were taken from him! The chicory wreath of anecdotes is no longer watered by the immortal Dear! He never wanted to crash into the camp of skewers who swallowed skewers with infallible faith! "The ***** goes on: he's a raging native and a staring stranger, he's the only one in the Guardians' camp!" On the cross of immeasurable times, it revolves around the gears of eternal self-repetitions…

Loyalty, though true, still sneers at his selfish sins, but does not share his greedy thirst. Fountain predators swallow each other devouring; the best quality silicone insert seems to be expanding in the expectation of a luxury carpentry environment. Team-hijacking, beast-starving bikini fairy. Severely flashing killer, knife-grin. Wider designed stage acoustics. Standing in group rings of reliable, gorilla biceps, bull-necked Adonis patches, it becomes increasingly difficult to resist any temptation.

Gigantic sized, cosmic bust would be the best talk of the decade ?! "A lost, tiny, star-studded planet is bending out of its devastated Dwarf Wheel of slender nights." dreaded, small-minded "some" think of their bulimic, ballerina-slenderness, because they can only know for sure, and that is the only way to prevail. - Would it be a sacrilege to address a true angel with a romantic bow, kneeling ?!

Even as dawn creatures enter the Order's circles at dawn, they are still inaccessible to outsiders. Turning back from the sacred altars of romance, even self-proclaimed existence is just one well-defined bubble fragment. As incomplete etchings, sooner or later everyone will be knocked out of the Wheel of Time dedicated to infinity!

The cosmic sovereignty of the universes is the brilliance of the pearly holy stars. At heart, you are afraid first, and then echo blasts are frightened, scared - in every missed blast, we ourselves measure the sinful time-minutes. Pisly-moon moonshine conceivably turns into starving, round cheese, and the oblivious, mowing-to-darkness watches over its petty victims left unprotected with vigilance. Dark night birds still stuttering, waving quietly ...

The autumnal loneliness of tree leaves, even the well-deserved, intermediate state; Nirvana-nothing is contemplated in the annual rings of nature: beetles, animals, living fauna. - Many more forgettable, questionable questions and aggressive question marks; Létkatharizs bleeds itself into rose-toothed dawn. The raging dawn, like a wounded red blotch, gives way to a bolero tune.

Although I would know how long and why? - I should stand in front of myself. The Consciousness numbs and makes me self-pity: I am and I will be alone! I have nothing to do with selfishness at most! It might be worthwhile to rush for more, more concise things: to rediscover family peace after friends and acquaintances, and to have the opportunity to knock boldly through open gates! "It's weird that we're relaunching the pointless and bustling game of everyday life - just cheeky sculptures:"

Do you run among the wreckage ruins every day with restrained patience and inhaled teeth: A wounded tolerant soul among the weeds of weeds and tares? - No one notices: Wise and satisfied patience will only challenge your members. And laughs that often start sneezing can hurt like seven-kilometer spikes! Being humbly cowardly is still easier and feasible than being shot in the barrel of common sense

Towards yourself possible targets s board up the dark *****! Therefore, if the gospel comes as a surprise that I have won, or won instead of someone — perhaps the equivalent of mere chance — I am amazed that my own soon-to-be-desperate sniffing pessimism will remain with me even after a day rich in values!

Either way I would try - if one could break out of the congested dams - but I can’t, I’m afraid: The seizure of opportunities is running fast as a fast train every day! I'm a mortal and hesitant! True! - Like everyone else: I lack help hoping for eternal salvation and enduring friendship!

Gnashing of teeth, re-established, **** sermons on the gaping paths of aging wakefulness! In the depths of our vulnerable souls, we carry the annihilated orphan, the vulnerable child, in the same way! We are already deliberately holding our children's ears so that we cannot hear the curses of ferocious, absolute adults, their everyday, shameful betrayals! A single, tiny word of sparks, a nasty, sighed thought, and everyone already felt and knew: the conspiracy of exclaimed wise men dried on lips sewn like a supplication! Even crying-eyed silence is telling less and less! Among his aching self-pain, he himself freezes into stone, and as a afflicted Sisyphus he can no longer guess, his vastly buffalo-heavy stone blocks will have to be carried by him all the time!
 
You can no longer stand out in the world, and you can hardly survive: everyone is just emphasizing themselves, the other self looks like superficial face shop windows! Harmony, as a light, mundane sedative, cannot serve as a cure for the restless who have been slapped on the head! A squeaking subconscious half-dream attracts me, and embracing it with understanding love, if I let the unpredictable, mischievous things happen! Behind the inner walls of personality, the roaring, quarreling outside world is still purring! The cracked shadow spots of curved mirrors are deepened by magpies under superstitious eyes, minute-grooves! Even in their daily robot life, we fall from the top down to the swirling depths and we want to cling strongly to the angelic greetings that can be realized even on earth!
 
The perceptual intellect gradually turns back into itself! The metamorphosis formula of an imagined dream can only succeed together!