Peace pigeons Believe me are rarely flying; On their broken wings, burning storm clouds gather. They can't even strain in the long curve of the rainbow, because the silence was destroyed down there. In all cases, proportions and shadows lie exchanged, with no prices for forgetting steps, small -style reality of petty lads. The semi-opening tulip also seems to be legally closed by a rustling wind.

Snow-white walls would still be good to cover-of course, just as it can-he set up romantic evenings, and the superfluous excess of the soul could no longer be enough. In the hell of time, our deeds' footprints are abandoned. The instinctive lovers who want to shrink into embryos, which would be good to cherish it a bit.

Playful naked waxfaaces are fateful to us, and often we don't even know what to do with them. Peace pigeons are still ****** on our heads because they can't even start with the phrases.

In the scarce passages of increasingly drained doors, we pull the tattooed stubborn revolutions of our face, while our nodding, staring grotesque-distorted mirror images are trying to answer questions and answers.

As the yellowed midnight moon is smiling at us, the yellowed midnight moon is smiling at us. However, it would still be good to travel to the smaller or larger buzzing of the goal-free-free-free-free-free-free-free-free-bun, even before they finally decide to get out or give up.

Our memories raise sifus weights because they would have to testify; The heads of our stinging figures were scattered with sand. The rude hopes believed to be frozen are relocated, while the germs of common sense fold the folds of the forehead!

We are all interoperable! Clumps of hair cling to us at the gates of the inner, much-lost Spirit! We dream of finding a home while chasing the way of our selfish career and prosperity! Hypocritical, well-moved moods change everyone into cared-for thank you people! Who nods at the real play all selling himself for kilos and grams and his prestige squabbling! They deliberately subdue the refreshing knowledge, and the nourishment of the more curious spirits can only extend to another private life of Celeb sensations!
 
He who dares to confess in verses, when he kneels down as a sign of his faithfulness, immediately laughs with a simple wave; remains a target! The multiplied phlegm-tangled style is becoming more and more twisted by itself: those who have forgotten the Human Law and who are fair are already trampled on by indifferent arbitrariness. Idiots, giggle-etudes jingle throat-brain, hysterical kittens, whose only desire is to be able to show up in a deliberate-syrupy reality show with a self-promoting *** gesture! - All of us
 
they got lost between two points of light; With Sisyphus architecture, the tabloids and the public media are also constantly thinking about brainwashing! Sick pink will not be a balmy bronze brownness for bombarding bikini fairies lot, but even the teenage chick looks wrinkled in the artificially generated rays of solariums and thus conserved mummies! Even under their enchanting bikini line, vanity cellulite rashes occur! Easy-to-forget bachnalia ****** are struck in a whirlpool jacuzzi; but who can honor immortal love?!
 
Your little one, who has had a cigarette in his angel's mouthpiece, is potted in darkness, and irresponsible carelessness can give birth to new criminals.

We are all interoperable! Clumps of hair cling to us at the gates of the inner, much-lost Spirit! We dream of finding a home while chasing the way of our selfish career and prosperity! Hypocritical, well-moved moods change everyone into cared-for thank you people! Who nods at the real play all selling himself for kilos and grams and his prestige squabbling! They deliberately subdue the refreshing knowledge, and the nourishment of the more curious spirits can only extend to another private life of Celeb sensations!
 
He who dares to confess in verses, when he kneels down as a sign of his faithfulness, immediately laughs with a simple wave; remains a target! The multiplied phlegm-tangled style is becoming more and more twisted by itself: those who have forgotten the Human Law and who are fair are already trampled on by indifferent arbitrariness. Idiots, giggle-etudes jingle throat-brain, hysterical kittens, whose only desire is to be able to show up in a deliberate-syrupy reality show with a self-promoting *** gesture! - All of us
 
they got lost between two points of light; With Sisyphus architecture, the tabloids and the public media are also constantly thinking about brainwashing! Sick pink will not be a balmy bronze brownness for bombarding bikini fairies lot, but even the teenage chick looks wrinkled in the artificially generated rays of solariums and thus conserved mummies! Even under their enchanting bikini line, vanity cellulite rashes occur! Easy-to-forget bachnalia ****** are struck in a whirlpool jacuzzi; but who can honor immortal love?!
 
Your little one, who has had a cigarette in his angel's mouthpiece, is potted in darkness, and irresponsible carelessness can give birth to new criminals!

We are all interoperable! Clumps of hair cling to us at the gates of the inner, much-lost Spirit! We dream of finding a home while chasing the way of our selfish career and prosperity! Hypocritical, well-moved moods change everyone into cared-for thank you people! Who nods at the real play all selling himself for kilos and grams and his prestige squabbling! They deliberately subdue the refreshing knowledge, and the nourishment of the more curious spirits can only extend to another private life of Celeb sensations!
 
He who dares to confess in verses, when he kneels down as a sign of his faithfulness, immediately laughs with a simple wave; remains a target! The multiplied phlegm-tangled style is becoming more and more twisted by itself: those who have forgotten the Human Law and who are fair are already trampled on by indifferent arbitrariness. Idiots, giggle-etudes jingle throat-brain, hysterical kittens, whose only desire is to be able to show up in a deliberate-syrupy reality show with a self-promoting *** gesture! - All of us
 
they got lost between two points of light; With Sisyphus architecture, the tabloids and the public media are also constantly thinking about brainwashing! Sick pink will not be a balmy bronze brownness for bombarding bikini fairies lot, but even the teenage chick looks wrinkled in the artificially generated rays of solariums and thus conserved mummies! Even under their enchanting bikini line, vanity cellulite rashes occur! Easy-to-forget bachnalia ****** are struck in a whirlpool jacuzzi; but who can honor immortal love?!
 
Your little one, who has had a cigarette in his angel's mouthpiece, is potted in darkness, and irresponsible carelessness can give birth to new criminals!

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!

Tan would have been better -you say -to stop the other in Pőr, Adam's costume, to be sure to manage the personality of the deliberately hidden lyrical self; The more real, honest seed hidden in the walnut. Because the world, which has been stunned in the cobwebs, is already completely excluded.

Inversely staring in the mirror, the face looks like a wolf multiplied by himself, until one sooner or later it only gets caught and voluntarily cuts a distortion, like a teenage eternal child with all the hair; There are two types of disgust - often - necessary because it always matches. In the depths of the inner soul, the covenant of direct, friendly words, the appearances of secret compromises, the miracle of Pisla perhaps only excite only one.

Inexorable silence is tense when the cross-section of two naive-lovable dialogues unfolds at all, and not just the consolation of the hugging arms, the glance of angelic superstitious eyes would be important, but the thought of stripped, crystallization. that we can count on someone.

Often, it is better to have been done instead of unnecessary, tricky words and spoke, and the secret apocryphal shirring that they thought was that only the selected, privileged, perhaps, may have the same average. And while the soul tends to disappear, fade away by the intermediate ventilation gaps, it is time for a real and sincere emotion to be lost if it is not estimated and is not taken care of enough.

Sleepless Night splashes of Light; in a haunting lunar world, a little boy swells with tears! The silent pearl drop of rays sticks to his face! In his troubled soul, Angel marvels and hesitates over the mortalities of the present World! The lush mane of wise trees still boldly hides the darkness, but there will be a time when the ****** parental hand will create a space shortage around you again! The fish-stepped Twilight also knocks the rusty canal to the chattering word of falling dew, while re-mixing with the juices of the life-giving earth!
 
As a familiar, familiar friend, Sorrow greets me with sorrow; the driving force of my pessimism! And if it weren’t for the wounded consciousness in my self, perhaps the happiness found in me would come out too! The melting mood of the evening is haunted by horrors; rest hesitant, my boyish soul rocking in foam foams Cheerful Universe kisses when wake me up ?! My slowly aging lonely Pygmalion face wipes away the cautious laughter! "What is happening here today cannot be enough to bring life-giving, gentle tears!"
 
The fever was still dancing in wanton-rogue's eyes and I had to explain the firm laws of Humanity again and again to the deaf ears that had stopped! Human hearts and talkative eye-stars are now lurking! The insidious, little-style rats of Time are running around us on kangaroos! And the orphaned Spirit already attracts like a starving pooch! The seemed Time scared consolation! Rib-crushing passions are still raging in me; I have yet to see that trial-and-error hearts of hero-loving hearts of Bliss fail! "We couldn't stay true to ourselves enough!" My tired heart still watches and guards the intoxication of Despair…

In most cases, one would not believe, unfortunately, not only criticisms, not only criticism, scalp -like remarks, but also the trumpet archangels blowing out the sinister trumpet. The lies are now increasingly small, pathetic, as almost everyone has become a deliberate compromise and made a bargain or a good pact.

Now, it may seem that the desire for glorious fame is in constant, even in the hazelnut brains that have been brainwashed; Human life is everyday, small -style, little hell of time, unexpectedly, unexpectedly. Now, the latent roots of the desire for power are increasingly wanting to gain from the earth, his deliberately ruined life again, venturing to the light of the world again.

Well -sounding visions have now been infected in their vanity that you. The beauty and glorious model industry will perhaps spoil them for the rest of their lives, and will be treated as queen, and while the average is only increasingly burdensome, pleasing, and in lasting unhappy, the robot.

Momentary, calculating pleasures, reconciled unhappiness, they are disturbing, crossing the labyrinth, deliberately uncertain paths. And waking up on the boundary of the dream, with half-paths the next day, with its visceral headaches, a few raven birds swear over a continuous, unprecedented head-up heads. Who knows if they are just waiting for another winter or for another start?!

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."

A double, twinkling candle flame flies in our eyes; ash ***** two movable hemispheres! Your palm-shaped spine tightened like a bowed-nerve in the moments offered by the Universe! A tiny tadpole heartbeat thrives between the muscles of your ***** and the blessed bones of your pool! Light-adolescent instinct stimuli will surround you and not let you go! I see the charm of your beautiful, exotic motherhood in the distant Future and a part of my being will calm down with confidence! I can know myself many times in you: Peter Pan syndrome - which can only grow slowly! You take Eva's nakedness as a spark-breaking female body, even I am overly mundane and prudent!
 
In the blind-mirror desert, it is increasingly difficult to find True and Sincere emotions! We tremble immortal in our own audible heartbeats! There is a short circuit between each other's proud detainees and superstition! A purple snake scroll in our gothic cavity mouth; search for decipherments with your beneficial teeth! Pecked stars are our smiles and it would be good to cling to the Possible, which hugs and keeps you safe! In bird-throated Twilight, rose sleeves caress jungle hairs on my lush chest!
 
You already live in me somewhere! My fallen little boy essence has become one with you! "Serious Angels have invaded my bones!" The ash wing arch of your collarbone rises audibly and sinks to the music of subtle sighs! We can boldly cling to the path of encrypted telepathies without words

Every day I wake up as a stranger in the morning until I can get back to myself! The crease of my face: a hair-stricken, war map, an uninhabited oasis that lurks in Peace! My chubby, pathetic body is a crooked mirror of the functioning of my organs! They can hardly want to recognize me anymore - although I also think about hygiene with a razor blade every day! My existence radar, tormented in the rib-atrium of my chest, sends panting signs to the age of bean-busting Angels!
 
It would still be bold to say no to a stubborn Death, a cutting Judgment, if the transporting blood in my set of molecular cells were not tiring! - The far-reaching echo of my orbiting lunar loneliness transmits incessant signals, sends valuable messages: s The cheap rag of word-rags will be even truer and more honest! - The Presence that is constantly grieving is petrified in me; I cannot dare live if I cannot feel that I can always count on Someone and as a patient Protective Angel always follows to the shadow of my heels!
 
My heart may be - sometimes it just mimics how it beats! It has become terribly cumbersome in In there, but it is often more and more excruciating out there! I am still honest with myself! While my others say my broken scarecrow face is covered in masquerade! If something can touch: Stimulus or another brainstorming idea to cry back the compulsion that comes true: can I stand it ?! "Isn't the conscious compromise of Life a worm for me?" Tears shed their pearl petals from crusted crater eyes and often obscure everything Nivan's milky white desert! In my mortal existence, the tiny events of minutes immortally unite when I know that the fallen-Self I have learned in the other will die at any time! The Mirror presented to myself is sure to shine from the inside!

If our lives could, in half of our lives, could be put together with the original nature of real, sincere friendships, and how many came and come up with honey-glazed promises, cheap, small-style, pathetic lies, perhaps as a deciphering. They stepped through a hesitant, uncertain will in an unfinished, much-to-tender life like the last legion of the Sahara sand dunes.

The love of love, who still has something flirted with the universe, thinks of the nights, and when he wakes up hibernation, he often does not really understand whether he could only make a mistake alone, or the one who betrayed him?!

It is incredible that this forty years have gone, and as they say, as something of a brain, ancient mantra text is that you. You have been a hysterical, dreaded, peeled puppy in your world life, you did not intentionally want to change and become absolutely, rigid than those who are more likely to have a comatose in the world.

It would be a good idea to collect the deliberately death of the happy-sadness that was deliberately died, which were still loyal by the lovely ash, princesses. Listening to the shadow of snow-white sandy, palm wooden beaches not only the murmurs of the seas but also the music of horns, what else can the uncertain doom in which we were born to live?!

It is always a bit more difficult to wake up to a real realistic reality, because it is already a bit of a nausea, nausea speeches, and - feared - if not taking care of it in itself!

I would say something else to you orphaned, eternal worrying kid, I have to get yourself up if they hurt me, people who are nothing. I would tell you something if you are dreading a crouching full moon at night, because you think you are just ghost or goblt, just be firm and brave and not show your wounded-*******, dreaded fears.

Many times I would call you a time-to-date machine mobile, if you would be a little more attentive to my wise, thoughtful words, which you still think would rather be discarded rather than meaningful advice; I know childhood may often seem like a two-way dead end, which sooner or later may fall or get lost, but you should always stay yourself and by no means let the absolute, Marcona adults sit or influence your Kobak head.

Put your childhood, playful curiosity with your sick heart, your liver, shaking hands and secret oath to yourself: _ I will stay for a couple of years who can know my friends so far! I will be loyal to myself. "_ - and while your aging, eyeglasses would look at the uncertain horizon, sillabising where the end of existence can be and how much more can happen. There are alms, sanding hands, sanda, nonsensical promises.

Something, even so many decades - would be good to tell you; You can never feel that they are mocked, deliberately shamed, mocked, evil, and if your grandchildren will not be ****** on your balding ping-pong head, you may have stayed yourself all the time!

On the branch of Time our hearts tremble many times and then fall back; our proud destiny holds down like the roaring flames of stray comets! We will be dusted as the eternal part of the Universe! The Tree of Life may still survive in this way; trembling above a twisting price insecure We carve the gallows of our existence if bitterness settles on our eyes! You are an amphibian and many times stateless! Neither in redemptive serenity nor on an Odyssey trip can you find peace until you get to know the One-One who truly loves you!
 
Well, as a diver, you often ponder the sins of your selfish hatred! You leave me foolishly guilty, let the eternal, found moment come on while you accuse yourself of stupidity: you would already need a sure point of rest so that you can gain not only crying self-confidence, but also karakan courage! You would call the eternal Beloved; a personal good friend you loved for yourself and who could decorate your crypt-dark home with your golden heart in the eternal May!
 
In silence, waterfalls rustle from the eternally hesitant wells of your eyes and everything will be flooded with self-forgiving, unconditional Grace! And on your tormented face the flame of offended Love burns as if oppressed by a heavy dream; my unexpected insomnia encourages killer vigilance! “Many times I still allow myself to be loved as a deceitful child so that the aggravated insult can sleep in me; his half-nailed man sneaks into his unhappy little snail shell if he doesn't dare risk it!
 
"What is Life for if you do not sacrifice to do something noble ?!" "Your conscience is still sounding, albeit fading, and when will the fleeting pagoda of Peace be yours forever ?!"

The Golden Horse of the Present cannot be collected by man these days; he would rather let his own selfish footprint, which could have at least testified to his having lived and existed here, be lost and lost in the silent Times. His dry soul is simultaneously squeezed by the bittersweet tears of sorrow that rise from the depths of his gut, which he has always shed for Someone, and never for himself.

He knows about himself: the freshly cut green blade of grass will sooner or later bury anyone, even if he is careful. Where have the cheap, petty plans of the day after tomorrow's scheming gone?!

Desire was a deliberately shortened vanity, just like the instinct instilled in biology, because life itself had become increasingly complicated, and the appearance of tolerance, which we wished to possess by right of birth, could hardly be endured, because it would be good to tattoo question marks into the window of the vile blind mind, so that there would be light in the brainwashed Gorgon heads.

The footprints of those leaving and those arriving - I fear - cannot even meet halfway; it seems as if man himself, as an idle observer, were constantly postponing the unexpected landing, which would still be left from his shallow lifestyle. Because the painted parody of the future, nicknamed the future, seemed to have long since nested itself in the mud of possible tomorrows!

As if he is now more likely to choose a long-term deficiency, secret nirvana-nothing instead of manipulation of the loud living; He does not even notice himself, as he behaves - perhaps - as the brainwashed wickedness, lubricating, damped indifference is the greatest enemy.

In decades, it is already a plenty of action adventure if you feel inside that you can only count on yourself, if you are left alone. He is deliberately trying to find, in the depths of selfish moles caves, to find the bustling, possible questions of existence, and often no longer understand who, when or where he was able to make a mistake and bribed.

You know, because most of the many crypt-faced people are pathetic one of many who are the subject of total ridicule, but still try to never complain. And then, from time to time, like a ****** rickshaw, the average is a silent rebellious protest from the average, -true, to no avail, because on the one hand there are even more important and important things on this earth; For example, who steals, embezzles, or cheats more - and while he thought the happiness he found was just that he was within reach - he barely noticed that he had been buried alive, the unbroken, cynical, bitter -smelling small -smelling Calvary ...

Deep in the placenta, the tummy-dweller snoozes quietly, sending messages. The Madonna-faced fairy is still patient and kindly examining her belly, watching! Oh, the first, tiny chubby-angel germination of new existence, now unfolding its wings! In the happiness of the heart, it now begins in a thick stream of rays and sends more and more, pounding its berries of true pearls richly.

Oh, little, blessed unknown guest, strange planets **** the Netherlands to this big world! - While in the cellular caves of the abdominal cavity like a glorious candlelight you are searching for a possible way out and looking for your future mother's swan hands diligently and gently: Now the celebrating soul begins a quiet lullaby, giving prayers to the gracious God of Nature!

Joconda-eyed, blessed love-chalice that has elevated Existence to the altar, you have received the Hearts that love you with a humble bow with a flood of kisses! The common fate of Damocles swings over us that we could have been born into existence from the killer home of fertile mothers - your angelic baby is now

he keeps crying, squinting. He roars proudly as he perceives the warmth of his harmonies, his love, curious about everything. His love and hunger are now growing, as in the instinctive food chain of the deserved hierarchy, and he greedily squeezes, cumizza the life-giving elixir of life, which rises as a source of existence: even open, gaping wounds, from the self-craters of the ******* of the *******: comforts, babusgat and nourishes

so one-eyed child, and perhaps the unspeakable, magical moment of revolving existence! Gordian knots also seem simpler, everything is tactilely homely, realistic!

A crumbly tear of the Universe should never be ashamed! Conscious tenderness is not a spice of piety! It’s scary to think about it already; Cosmoses in the afterlife cold, if intentionally left alone child-orphaned crying can only circulate soul-seeing roe deer! Soul maps lack a place where they can still feel, everyone has had and will have **** bad days! All the merit of a man boasting in courage is in the minuses if he does not protect the True Beads falling from the sight of his eyes in soft pain!
 
Many retreat behind the mounds of their exaggerated, squeaky stubbornness; the breathing petals of the Spirit fall precisely because it could hardly have been immortal Dear who could have grasped the sad stigma spheres of Truth in the palm of redemptive harmony! Because who knows for sure that there is a surplus in the World, and it can only be a burden, whose problems are deliberately swept under the rug and cannot be understood - the Guardian boasts suicidal thoughts! Anxiety is strained in your organs!
 
As a fierce conspiracy in human hearts, an assassination swirls and prepares against the Honest, who were still able to show their true feelings! Because who is smooth-skinned can only be facelessly free?! - Who likes to wear sunglasses in the juice of dusk sacrificed with blood petals hides himself and hides to show his more personal values! ****, shapely posers would not be needed; the deliberate idiots laughed at each other's barbarian-uncombed shows, everything was reworked by the false, artificial liver gestures and the egoistic topos of liking.

The eternal-child soul may one day grow up to the ennobled tragedies of fate; it will be blinded by the lack of Nothing that nests in the subconscious, because only one chance is possible for the pairs of proportions. In the meantime, as the periods of life history alternated more and more shallowly, the desire for certain falls became insoluble again. The foaming waves of oceans also lost their sails, because man cannot find the Odyssey of homesickness only in death. One day man will understand why it is necessary for him to still post faithfully in temporary circumstances on the bands of the lowest boundlessness, so that his time does not run out early, the promised fruits of the small Sisyphean weights without space and time can only grow and be created around the house of others.

Why can't the human word find a suitable analogy for the inner, more hidden soul?! Because there is only one possible answer to completeness, just like the fillable Universe?! Today's digitally underdeveloped age deliberately lacks the reliable monotony of paced, rhythmic slowness; even in the beating, feeling heart, there is a total lack of emptiness if it is unable to decipher and interpret the belittling feedback of a given microenvironment. The feelings of the duplicated Self are often consciously covered up by the personality that shows the surface.

- They put their self-identity to sleep, or wake it up from its dreams. Because Being, a little beyond death, finally rests on the branch of Nothingness!

I have survived the full steady pace of my life! The treasures of smells, wonders, and emotions evaporated behind me — doing nothing as it would have seemed through the eyes of others: The tiny cells of the unknown existence were influenced by molecules. My swarm-toddler's turn of the century was watched by women, as they later leveled my school-lesson career — I was able to go to their safety once and for all: my spirit could finally be aware of and marvel at the formula of the anthill of the world,

however, the remaining order is like the molasses tutyimutyism! I hid among the shadows unnoticed, unmoved. With my inner eye, I measured the bizarre message exchanges of immortal kisses: every tangled, exhausted tiny coal challenge generated real emergency challenges, like when nuclear nuclei split.

I am ashamed of a lot of my mistakes and mistakes for so much - that's right! I saw the ruthless brutalities of real life in a crime siren. Even though I was on duty as a school circuit runner in gym class, my tear-wounded face burned from both sides while my mother was watching me, comforting me, protecting me! But now that I'm pretty much just knocking out empty heaps of paper, the inserts of a garmada of feathers, for myself - I could remember and live

the full need of Existence: Missed births, birthday parties, bicycle teaching, - to rejoice and live that I could be a creative and creative part of Someone, even if for a little while! "But life is not a frothy cake, if the overhead lines that are felt in the overhead lamp world are like the trampled beetles!"

Maybe someone will come, secretly capitalized out of little money, and even faced with a scarcer opportunity to thrive on immortal emotion!

Something is now starting to surface, while thought and spirit are forced to listen incessantly in the depths of the Soul. Something would necessarily have to open the iris-retinas of the colorblind eyes, where petty, selfish, manipulative secrets lie hidden, because the totality of non-existent materials has unexpectedly-suddenly changed form and shape. It would be good if we all learned to cling to our still forgivable, foolish-childish mistakes, which could once have made us human; our tingling fingertips, like semaphore-seismic compasses, would feel the redeemable promise of the truer Universe.

Reason - even now - would dictate the vile conditions out loud in vain; the psychological smoke of permanent misery certainly already covers the brainwashed heads daily. The spiral circle returning to itself always closes, since it can return to itself; the metamorphosis should be noticed in radiantly happy eyes, which have not yet been seized by the power of disenfranchised materialism.

Man's most loyal shadow companions dissolve disembodied into the Nirvana-Nothingness, because behind it still remains the uncertain milieu nicknamed the permanent; we would like to despise our well-traveled Robinson-feet in the noise of the knocking silences, when the world has already shrunk to Omega. The stigma-stations of waiting accustomed to patience are becoming less and less understandable!

How can I build my career of opportunity over the open gap of raging Hell’s mouths? How could I prosper in the blind age of silly Celeb fools, when the pounding, unscrupulous break didn’t haunt me either !! "Roaring lava curses burned figured stigma on my sad face!" In the petty cat-and-mouse battle of humans, I fell to the ground many times voluntarily and there could hardly be anyone around me to help me! The worn-out rag wings of my idea were torn to small pieces by an insidious calculation, superficial Indifference!
 
I tried to eye etheric spaces of light in the shells of True Pearls; I could have been stunned and happy, I would have been if the rules of my survival could be just an arm's length away! The shimmering lights of linden stars are only very rarely greeted; my cared forehead around the forehead a lot of lived glass ***** rumbling in the dark! Everyday lightning shards zigzag through the waves of my existence and I still can't know
 
how can I survive the One-way to get ahead ?! Towards demonstrable Mortality flows the sparkled countdown of Being we gained at birth! He threatens to grab my menacing Unsteady Throat and not let me through my chronic drowning!
 
My chubby face fidgeted with grimaces at a defenseless little child trembling; a refreshing shower of showers shakes my relentless shoulders: a Mother-moon gaze flies away and touches me dearly and tenderly in my dreams, - then returns: the power of laughing from sparkling amber eyes echoes when a day is driven by its hibernated underwear!

Our pitiful pit sins, which are beginning to spawn, should be immersed in sobering, snow-white light! I should definitely condense the emotions of amok runs into broken parts of moments! I deliberately stray from the already massive, pop-culture collection of butterflies, and when no one can count on it, I return to the throbbing petals of lady-hearts as a Hermit who sees childish wishes! My towel, which is temporarily spread out, replaces the soft pillow under my neck! "Sleepless Lethe-sleep would require a whisper in the shadow of troubled nights," my aging shingles have all been wiped out! In vain would I ask the shadows lurking under eaves, encouragingly, who is his son-calf?!
 
Many already give themselves up lightly just so they can be at the forefront of sniffing gravity! Prohibition trees advertise an easy-to-implement luxury standard; fertility and prosperity! "You can never find peace among the remnants of someone who was born restless!" Everyone is already counted with officially configured digital devices! Surely scanners would search in vain to find a place they wouldn't find anyway! In my old and new age, everyone has an entrance, but I should knock! Only my orphaned heartbeat could remain; I have always lacked the underworld calm of my petty creature!
 
I didn't spy on fresh chicken meat with a spy invention! The little boy's danger of falling was written on my half-naked face! I have learned to reveal myself’s personal self is never free because there is always a constant risk of major injuries! For more delicious laurels, the jerky gingerbreads of *** generations will even go to your lap! In their insidious board game, the protein of their betraying teeth kills killerly! Where can the Dear be, who will hold my hands left alone?!

The honest-true would still burn in man - even if only half, or in captivity of crossroads. He should not give up or let go of his convictions, wherever this unfair, wicked-comic milieu may carry him. His eternally restless, petty, eternally peaceless soul would be so good for some kind of momentary redemption, from which he could still build and perhaps start a new life. Bars and cages stretch around him, while his constant kilometers of walking are tied to the shackles of his sickly legs, or even a vile physical disease.

- It is known: a hundred, and a hundred years quickly pass and where does Zhuangzi's imaginary dream of the fulfillment of the happiness he has found, like a kind of Nirvana-idea striving for perfection, remain? He bows his forehead in repentance before his distorted reflection in the mirror; like a sinking Saturn waiting for the mortal Jericho trumpets of doom to ring into his deliberately deaf ears; he is seized by a consuming guilt that in a given situation he did not dare, perhaps did not want to act.

Man often stands hesitantly on an empty horizon, because he feels that he should turn his life, which is rather doomed to mortality, back into non-existence; he sees daily how the World dismantles, destroys itself, crumbles to pieces. The Soul, like a secret, special mirror, can take on a new body in someone else, the metamorphoses of immortal Beings are greeted in a single movement, or in the comfort of embraces, as when the corpus turns into a silent, echoing cave, where the seeds of instinct are still created and conceived.

Because sooner or later man deliberately retreats towards his own future; he is unable to do anything with uncertainty; to formulate, to understand the hidden Morse codes of reason. - The snarling Cerberus jaws of beasts can rarely be closed forever by the historical century!

Perhaps it was all the same: the predictable certainty of the steps, like the aged footprints of old loves, which the ocean once drew in the sand. The past shattered shards of glass into smithereens. The weighty mass of scoldings, curse words, and nasty words can no longer be satisfaction or a legitimate retaliatory strike towards the sure redemptive forgiveness; because deep down in the confused, wounded Soul, the flower *** is already rattling into tiny pieces again, and there is no more worldly, massive glue that could fit more than a million pieces together.

Well, this is how Everything is formed; the cherishing, caressing voice of the Beloved no longer calls out from the echoing silence. Silence with an intermittent rhythm walks its rhythmless tightrope dances, because the kettle drum rhythm of the waning waves of the present also beats in the deaf ears. Why is it that every moment believed to be eternal has an unpredictable end and is hyperactive and restless?!

- The ever-drifting event of Nirvana-nothing seems to culminate crystal clear in the present minutes. The wolf-howl is accumulating in the manner of mini-atomic bombs ready to explode in the throats of screaming, ready-to-climb, ready-to-dive wolves. The clustered fear stretches to the shoulders, just like the Cassandra-scented ominousness.

Many-stringed screams hang, then ripen with a luscious, juicy pleasure, like a bunch or two of nectar-rich grapes. The massive-solid prison walls surrounding a person are increasingly hopeless, there is absolutely no escape from them.

The past has become a dark path! Millions of pieces of being below flowed into the rings of memories, self-awareness involuntarily memorized! It swirls like a terrible, outraged dizziness like a black river in the Infinite! "You can't forget: your haunting past looks back at you with your questioning your present and asks!" Your germ as a stamped wound rises daily because the Wholeness is over! Throw yourself into suicide - see if you survive!
 
Every minute of your sighs, he flirts with you and Death can strike back! Your alpha point was your beautified birth, while your bowed being was Omega! Use wisely what you have kept and learned in your vulnerable heart! On the crumbling memorial ruins of your heart, the dying day was spared another deserved opportunity! From afar, Nineveh is buzzing; as watchmen, vigilant guards would cling to the sermons of the prophets! Nothing ancient throat yawns at us like a siege of cetacean intestinal worms - you measure your life in agony among anxious heart attacks! "The echo sigh of souls lost as sea crust penetrates your heart!" - You accustom your heart to renunciation; this vile, hypocritical World can hardly proclaim the holy word of Mercy more!
 
As an eternity of moments, suffering anxiety stifles! Five-minute-man-blues, plaza-kittens are sobbing for fame and cheap sensations in drooping, noisy crowds! - Conscious horror subsided into a scar ache; no one will hold your life hand persistently and a meter-hole pit will open in the depths of your heart! Fat Death devours your flesh while chewing your bones…

A secret symbol of love or a sacrifice meant for fertility - getting fluffy, thirsting for cool cooling springs. Time is stubbornly dying. And even the loss of petals proclaiming fragility, the proud hope of dawn, scatter its rays more and more humiliatedly, erroneously!

His spiky, unbreakable stem now closes like the sighs of convicts at the last word, his opening, majestic chalice resembling just a shrunken mother! In a room where he had bathed in halo all day, he had enthroned on his sublime lofty throne, someone had placed fresh water in the crystal tube of his vase,

delayed to lasting minutes for the remainder of mortality! I couldn’t take it off the table, its prickly crown secretly prevented our garbage from being a broad-rumened prey: Its existence, already for mere fragments if enough. Fatal transience, like a whimpering culprit, thoughtfully and slowly stripped her dying petals naked! "I examined him, lying on his face in front of me, naked,"

broken, kind, with a princely head like a cursed princess who clung to a secret, and now her moral strain offends her to go among men! In the place of my perforated love, I also examine the swan-touch of fingerprints: Were only we conscious, proud fools that it was common to believe

we deceived ourselves with our will, did we lie? The weather is getting more and more unpleasant: grungy and foggy - and while I turn off my lamp, while with lost faith I still hope that you will look at me with your star-eyes from above.

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.

There, in the chapel rising on the small hill, where perhaps two people could barely fit, when you were brought in a carriage pulled by two apple-colored Pegasus horses; where a few diligent, busy women's hands gathered a feverish forest of flower bouquets, a rainbow flood of tired daisies strangled in wreaths - yes! There the blissful, redeeming yeses should have been said, which could only really mean something to us, since they reserved the Everything with a holy oath.

Then there should have been will, devotion, a beautifying dream - which at the same time eagerly nourishes, consumes, but nourishes - with which two beating hearts in love can finally belong to each other. You should have escaped a little while, when you did not let your snow-white voluminous veil fall to dust, with your moon-silver tiara, and a loyal protection, a protective harmony accompanying you throughout your life, which says in your superstitious doe eyes: "I have chosen you as my companion!"

- You should have arranged - only with a common will - the secret desires of immortal Fates, so that even the one-Beloved could be absolutely sure of his/her business, and doubt, suspicion, deceived temptation could not even fearlessly break the predestined bond of togetherness.

We would have clung to the plane with gazelle-like leaps, so that then on a half-uninhabited subtropical, paradise island, on a snow-white sand bed, in front of the sun's disc that wanted to set, we would have sworn in our hearts that we were beating: True, Good, Noble, so that the ragged life would take note two human, earthly stars, whatever happens, poverty or wealth, two immortal Universe-souls, now united until the end of time.

– The true word that resides in the deepest part of the heart should have been spoken as if it were the last one to be spoken here on earth: ,,If you really love, then neither Porsche, Ferrari, nor a fancy bag costing half a million, nor a castle on duck legs matters, because you feel that it is better to belong to someone than to just be floundering here and there like a luxury item for the seventh time in a lifetime.

Your children, later your grandchildren, will throw our loving instinct-egoisms at your eyes in vain; you can cry through a shower of abundant fountain pearls for an eternity, because you were a compromiser, a bargain-maker and maybe even a little coward, because you gave in to the predictable alluring power of prosperity and wealth. – Long, difficult At the end of our journeys, perhaps we will meet again, and then I will make your once golden, loving heart confess to you!

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…

The Spoken Reality

You should learn, you finally understand: The unattainable idyllic life for laurels rarely brings you! - The sizzling music of handsome, flirtatious lips clicked on your face like good-natured slaps, and you could only hope and hope - in the end you could only watch in annihilated way: Seductive lovers, Lady-Jews could be exploited, used - finally you were a disposable toy! You have not yet grown a laurel in burning beautifully curved kisses - you could only be one of many:

Youth, foolishness with its pregnant responsibilities bears itself! How many times have you tried to study the wandering map of unknown blood labyrinths in heartbeats that have been deciphered? But in vain! "You can't understand the secret of words, your struggle with hurricanes of complicated desires, inexperienced son-in-law!"

The emotion may have remained an immortal and unattainable torso: Though broken, but you tried to love with full conscience - see if they would reciprocate: You were the only Don Quixote who could be pushed to the ground among liar *******, dizzying skirts! "With a battered-worn briefcase, like a sad, melancholy chronicler of tiring thoughts, you carried a load of paper-smelling milestones of cultures laden — if you still have some money left!"

You have long guessed the Truth, to confess you are still helpless and molasses, and a coward for yourself: Only one who can be happy with himself is able to believe the all-embracing Prometheus hope that embraces everything. Who is meaningless and useless in spite of voices

he struggles and does his things more and more, and with his ancestral, contagious selfishness he settles down forever, in the manner of murderers, and he absolutely believes in his own Truths - keeping possible, changeable versions of individual opinion!
It should finally be said: Do not lie, but it is imperative that, if necessary, the seeing Eye proclaims relentless Truths, and be incapable of cherished, sometimes relieving lies, even when the spoken Reality causes wounded pain!

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…

If we are not careful in this current brainwashed, diluted existence, our peanut-sized brains will be ground into a nut-core mass by the many vile, slanderously otherworldly speeches, the unworthy preaching of exaggerated promises. All the undeserved blows, slaps-showers have already run around the walls of the skulls, because common sense has long ago locked the gates of the temples. The knowledge and certainty that you must live as a wanderer now increasingly batters you, then suspends you.

The infected pus just pours out of the leaking Existence-cracks, like the honey-glazed judgments of false prophets. Where is the courage?! - ask the suspicious, just like the compromised, when it would be good to hold on to the power of a helping friendly hand, or to the gaze of the Kind savior angel, because even so, there are and will be ugly days when people would rather waste away like silent stones in the oozing mass-mud than on the glue-smelling surface, from which - it may very well seem - there is no escape.

Those who can still understand a chain of connections can resist all drifting, - though not for eternity and beyond. The message of cheerful human-charmers at the benevolent words of *******-angels will also be a delusion, an illusion. The holy shackles of truth and honesty must be broken apart by a newly concluded vague contract, by petty manipulative bargaining, so that they cannot function; live and create. A wild din rages among scattered human herds; it breaks the shackles of stoic silences, with which one could still protest, because somewhere deep down one feels: one cannot sell oneself!

Like a trembling bouquet of flames, leaning on the edge
of Nothing trembles at wise,
knowable facts!
I try the cunning plans of my imagined death like desperate suicides!
In my soul, an unspeakable horror and ingrained Fear of Death strains,
and the unrepeatable desire of the Universe cuts into me
like suddenly hooked lightning teeth:
"You should not be destroyed yet!"
- If one is still breathing and counting Being may be eternal!
The monolith remains even as the tale has shaped itself!
  
The essential Infinite spirit energies are in wandering order
and become one with their external influences;
perhaps two opposing effects could still
give birth to the solid essence!
It is always surrounded by the dizziness of Nothing;
there is a harmonious symmetry in it: True s
False as Being s the recurring Deficiency!
- The change shows only the Finite;
live throbbing can sprout from continuous germination!
“I get a sore flame-burning in me and a whitewashed ghost
provides a waterfall if I can still break out in my bitter loneliness!
  
As a purple tongue of flame, everything is enveloped
and filled with envy and evil jealousy; save God to be in me!
I’m more of a squeaky human spark in the expelled darkness!
Among the artificial paradises of Eden in the world,
kittens with artificial liver, glue-smile and gorilla-brain muscle sprouts
abound in coastal ****** while also oiling each other!
The illuminating and eternal lanterns of cultures could
only be invented by the watchmen;
as they get past their meat tunnels,
sooner or later everyone is overwhelmed
by the uncertainty rooted in uncertainty for sure

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.

A heart that beats for others deserves better than an empty, cold apartment. The broom of painted swallowtail eyelashes is a transparent exhibitionist curtain, where all essence is lost, because they let the echo drops of the soul be lost. Man no longer has great world-saving goals, only to finally reach a heart line identical with his split subconscious self. A beautiful supermodel-bomber is hardly noticeable, because the exaggerated body culture, the health mania, destroys and infects the levels of the Soul.

A skinned leopard fur coat - despite being an unaffordable luxury item - regularly exudes an unbearable stench; and while a manipulator is calculating with manipulative, deceitful methods, maybe he can have the biggest scam of the decade – average guys who are considered losers and suckers jump into the Danube as an internal consideration.

They are scattered around, as if their long-lost bohemian-dwelling eternal friends were mourning their second youth. A buzzing insect-circle dance – nowadays, this is all that the gigantic, principled treadmill of everyday life can be worth, because work never comes to the house voluntarily, that is the sole privilege of the big dogs and sharks; because everyone would rather look for the invisible, sure way out, while they can, hopes, stubborn illusions, foolish beliefs turn into frozen falls.

On the discarded, serviced street of Time, like occasional drunks, they stumble half-blindly one after another, the petty-murderous humiliations instilled over decades, the humility tolerated, the chasms towards which honesty and truth rush at once, since it may seem impossible to do anything with the Present!

Everyone may see through me: Yet where I intended to go, I may never have been able to achieve it, because man's real goals are elusive and unattainable! I already know your world too well, and yet I fight every day, at least not in my perilous image of shadows so frighteningly that he follows everywhere as a faithful servant in the ring of circuit lanterns.

Selfishly and eagerly, baptized enemies would long to find me: The spotted armor of ignorance — now my refuge, though hardly, and in the last degree, would have been the Silence, the silence, the hopeful return to myself as a second mother tongue!

On the street corners - especially in the cauldron of heatwaves - alcoholic prisoners roar, scurrying. I deliberately close my windows against the vengeful invasion of beetles. I didn't crawl useless and pointless back and forth, as the lunar pathologist can't even guess where he was going: the creepy sounds of the nights were greeted as old acquaintances!

Panel walls forced the free-breathing warmth into prison: Perhaps everyone sees me cynically, and since my childhood, Loneliness has committed and followed me as a silent companion. Behind my window, the sublime and proud mountain giants yawn, spread out over green valleys, like crouching stone hearts: They would secretly call me among themselves to make the meaningless and gutted World a place in which we are forced to live deliberately hermits!

You may even have trouble yourself, even if you crawl, unworthy, cherish thoughts that never come together enough; The dear angel scent, which makes you feel at the rose-fingered dawn, or a yellowed photo showing a forgotten wedding wedding in just as cozy shipwrecks as the rings of the trees that count on the constantly difficult collon weights of the past decades.

The unbearable lightness of life is shaking, not only on the broom of superstitious eyelashes, but also in the depths of the eternal childhood soul that we were deliberately did not show to others. With empty glue hands, like a disturbed thief, one gets drunk if he couldn't try enough luck. Grotesque mode is over and over again, and the endless time is finally cried back to missed minutes ...

The pigeon color dawn falls unexpectedly on us if you have to wake up to the still-stingy, coma body; His germination and instincts are even lined, perhaps they would like to wait for their destiny, if you could still watch the Book of Fate for us? The heart clock called the heart, like a pulled, timed bomb, threatens cataclysms at any moment, and it is not to reach the well -deserved retirement years. Cause and cause halfway away this way; It covers objects, petty gaps, cracks of cracks. The troubled mind is gone by the purposeless, meaningless clichés of reality: did it make any sense if you are unable to come out of your small alms paying?!

Even though you are struggling with sinners, the crowded universe is still lurking in your pockets, because you have long been in mind to ask others the big recurring questions: to make a bargain ease, everything else is a lie!

In front of us is a messy, -to say, -in the ***** of a stoic, tuna indifference, perhaps a bit persecuted, human -wreeds, give each other; I still want to save their movable values. Not only the spiritual poor-but also the turrannos that want to be of power, suffer from unknown blindness, because well-suited false interests are cheap, lying, and even so, the average is the same.

There may have been nicer, more successful worlds all over themselves, and as light promises, anyone who is still very susceptible to it was well-placed. Initially, all wills and intentions are creative and evolving, and in the meantime, it becomes manipulated, which runs through hand and middle and is ready for a pseudo -illusion, in which, undoubtedly, it can even be clung to a couple of decades, but after an accelerated disappointment; What was the point of formulas for dreams of card castles?! - Because the consciousness is increasingly not taking its place in its possible van.

And while upstairs, the pigeons who are desiring to fall in the sky can raid and they can empty their waste material in their mourning, the simple average can hardly wipe not only the liquid snow-white snacks on his head, but also the petty bribery of capitalized life.

It would be good to steal the expandable time, as well as the secret of Eden, a little for ordinary people; Instead of an imaginary joy and apparent, acute happiness crushes, extend the tangible prosperity that you. Not only spiritus, but even the Sus, is losing weight too early.

I keep turning back through the pages of my life's codex; memories, shadows of the past, even the persistent, tenacious deep layer, the poor pimples of annual rings still hint at a recurring ominous omen for my otherwise shipwrecked Robinson Crusoe life. The weight of crystal memories almost crushes me, even though I was no more sinful, foolish, or wasteful than the rest - a kind face, a good deal of good mood, unexpectedly comes to mind, because I often gain more truth from the reflections of talkative faces than from the cavernous depths of soiled, muddied souls.

In petrified depths, along with adverse trials, a few more eloquent sermons bubble up: "My dear friend! Why is this useless, worn-out life of yours not good for you?! It's true! Your bills and utilities are still in order, and even though you haven't bought yourself a new jacket, Lewis jeans, or elegant Italian leatherette shoes in ten or so years, you can still wait a long time for that sparkling toothpaste commercial smile.

Why do you behave like an orphaned light flickering in the darkness of the night, which deliberately prefers to hide its petty, selfish secrets and only glows from the inside?!" Your human attitude seems to last only for seconds, because at the same time you are attracted, but at the same time you are repelled by the sluggish, cynical indifference with massive awareness, the millennial principle of our time, since nothing changes, Existence can only seem more and more unbearable.

- A duel of spirits could not be easier, especially if the wise science of arguing is banned within radical frameworks by knowledgeable smart tonics, because they are truly terrified of the power of innovative creative thoughts and ideals. Your naive-childish, eternal Sisyphean worries and exploitability are now being played with by jerks and fools, while they splash pathetic, petty words at you halfway; be careful! It's not too late!

Don't Shed your viscerally restless life! Because you would like to reach there yourself in a worthy way, where joy and satisfaction await, and not the hustle and bustle of everyday robot work! And how good it would be there, arm in arm with your Beloved, to write the laws of the Universe in the sand!

Man, you had better take good care of yourself, because it has become a custom in the world to court the executioner in the language of a dog nicknamed good-natured or a monkey that barks. You will remain a permanent loser of a lack of a single day. Perhaps some other solution would be useful if you remained a victim of such a permanent longing. Because you have to endure the uncertain future without admitting it.

Perhaps even the embryo memorizes in the womb that if it is born, a permanent, mortal captivity of its body and spirit awaits it, for the sake of a dubious example. Behind our hands that ask for help, there is still a lack of any kind of effective support; space or time - I fear -, it will never settle down again, because it will viscerally consume the members of the earth, its defenseless victims, because the massive house of cards built from loans and credits is growing, which will soon collapse before its time, man crawls among buried fragments of pottery in this nameless space-time, and perhaps he will not even know what it is at the hour of his death?!

The word, the promise, the oath of handshakes have become an empty shell. The sound form that sounds like reason is also becoming increasingly disintegrated, torn, we should try to think with patience and empathy and this is not taught in the so-called public sector schools, only in the Montessori ones. - The bitter wrinkles of the soul cannot be washed out in a washing machine to make it squeaky clean, like the oft-repeated "tabula rasa" - the tattooed knife marks of stars shine on dried faces, but fewer and fewer people can understand the universal messages. Because now, it seems, the antennae of thinking, scientific brains have been permanently spared on purpose.

He is increasingly hasty, judging. As if the constantity moving in one place would vibrate every petty, trifling limb, every visceral instinct. The consequences of deeds, actions, petty, hellish words roll off him; as if he himself could already guess that one day he will have to pass away for good.

Conscious despair, an intensified cry for help swirls in his incessantly creaking limbs. Lack and Nothingness incessantly forces its wedding-like decorations upon itself; it would strain his Sisyphus-like, restless seriousness more and more until he realizes why?!

The last supper night closes like an old, rusty lock, when every person takes a little account – including him – of what he has done with his petty sins, his stooped back, a whole spleen-weight, as if the heavy lead bullet were still dragging itself through a remnant-fragment of life. With closed eyes, one should have learned to feel in the other that one can count on him without ceasing.

He no longer demands his ****** integrity, even his more humane human rights, even if they were deliberately curtailed, since he has made the dances of the Universe and the heart quite clear.

But he has often rung the bells at dawn for some of his undisguised, eternally unconditional childish laughter. Now, thundering estuaries clash above his head; I could easily rob him. The world is now welcoming him outside, because perhaps the silent prison keys can no longer jingle in his hearing ear. No son should possess his rightful innocence with a usurping desire. Because every adult collapses and stumbles a little, while the child remains steadfast in the Spirit!

Our neighbor roars at her pampered child again. the gray-knocked prison walls are still crackling and shaking. The constant bombardment of nerve pathways is already unbearable. From the shining saints of the stars to the continents of lanterns and lanterns, the dusty night shines.

The little guy, with a hysterical, demanding mood, searches the wheel tracks of his missing bike like a magic tricycle that can fly him to the sky, but he only finds an aluminum floor worn into yellow parchment, an iron lattice drilled into the islands of panel elements! I would comfort a handkerchief or a pleasantly sour rubber bear so that the lost earth harmony could return again, and blue, red, yellow, green,

delicious little taste-snacks, rolling down your small throat like a huge grab with my tiny hands in my bag! "But what I imagine is that the proud foundations of a possible friendship can be laid," I murmur to myself. "The boy continues to demand hysterically - and more and more, and the neighbor;" an orphaned young woman is still clueless about the more playful issues of upbringing and tolerates child tyranny with gentle Joconda patience!

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!

I have already laid everything on the bottom of the well; my grumpy, grimacing face can be searched by few! They can't open a whole walnut casing like a secret box with open keys! Mident's stretching-haunting, offensive dark rubbing his fingernails into me and that's why many times balmy nights startle me from frightening waggling wolves! On a severely-silent orphaned dervish scale, I measure my bugs daily as portions of meat and try to correct them! I envelop my spiky hedgehog soul, and I rarely believe words that are tickling!
 
As a slimy snail, I would try the bizarre rules of survival; and I can't really, completely happen like someone who's really alive - just hurt! I am forced to stand for a long time, otherwise little kings will trample the Man in me at any time! No one is buying a serious game today! Disposable, *****-life-destroying ***** have come! Playful demons had already exhausted everyone immediately; in this current home, hand-pulling has been reduced to fashion!
 
Sizzling like silent straw and barely staying in one place; tread, leave traces in endless fields! In a hurry, a thousand people are lurking towards me and infected rudeness is nestled on each of their lips! My desperate dreads often subside and I have no way to break out of demonic spells! "From my selfish pain, my dear could redeem me forever!" And will there still come an era when, in the outstretched hand, the throbbing cups of our hearts will throb for each other?!

… Because even a happy birth is just a tiny, lasting piece of our existence: Race with the Time Part! Countdown for ourselves! Outraged, hard-to-get loves are tricked under the window of my trick drunk! Bloods bloodshed in the captivity of Dawn! The cosmic emotion of Faithfulness creeps into thethe vulnerable Soul cracks ofand bites like a fleeing ghost after the assured Redemption!
 
In the depths of the narrow cells of molecules, only I can be a wrecked shipwreck waiting for his immortal Beloved, preaching complimenting confessions to the shells of chirping ears! Endless pledge of romance! "In the future, perhaps, he will bow down to me for the last time with the kisses of the angelic Goodness and the Universe - I will not have to be humiliated in the hyena of human survival in the murders of survival."
 
But rejoice in your self-forgotten deserved gift — the wishes of tomorrow! "I've never fallen so deep in a dull night!" In a raging storm-turmoil, my roots of existence cling; I should search an endless world for my already missed Beloved! Wounded in torture, the Spirit is asleep, waiting for redemption!
When will the prosperity of my abandoned refuge home come?! Can joy still reach this uninhabited land? I fall-sink daily without a trace; eternal despair can expand in my heart in heart attacks - the Present! - Your Lash-moon when for me her immortal message?

Because wherever you look today, you can see the party ****** of beggar-lived, petty oligarchs, half-God snobs, diva-bachans! Unceasingly suspicious of the sudden coming of flashing fame, glaring flashes gossip-bang! Deafened depths reign in the home of our rainbow retinas under the forehead, as they can only notice the riches of appearances, the advertisers of luxury lifestyle tricks, whose billions of ringing music are just vile change!
 
From the everyday stories of despised mob prophecies, an eccentric miracle beetle is selected by the grinding media machine, and boldly believed to be by the rings of proud lies; a valuable link for human species! The tense of lingering promises can be the word-jokes of lowly jealousy and hatred hidden in preaching voices, appointed innocent! In the lap of the much-suspected Underworlds, a slender, little minute-human blue room is created every day! In snoring vulture-eye cavities, cheerfully stirling-flirting eye-***** are watching! We consciously strive for the increasingly familiar emptiness!
 
Because we are becoming more and more indifferent to each other, which almost hurts in alarm! When we can look at ourselves, we remember and return at the same time! In sly smiles, we raise walls of temper against each other; in everyone doubled Heart beats, they just forget to “some” listen to his word! - Self-propelled shadow also falls into strands of light in intimate harmony - if you experience it! As Siamese twins, they cling to each other many times Past and Present! Maybe we’ve always wanted to be better than our own humiliated, false self-roles yesterday

Who would have thought that even within a few decades, pop and celebrity culture infected with postmodernity could be so resonant, calculating, and pathetic?! It's like some kind of anchored, stupid social pyramid game, Phalanx theories that produce mass people want to prevail by tripping each other up, and just like Orwell's 2+2 can rarely be 4. Average people, even ******* animals, prefer to deliberately wipe the soles of their shoes on each other, just so they don't have to help the other, even a little.

Air transport routes are only available to charter flights of the nouveau riche, since there is hardly any scurrying or customs inspection. Existence - like it or not - is becoming increasingly unstable, while everything else is doomed and contingent. They are constantly changing places, especially on the front of syrupy, false tabloid media, and more and more people are deliberately trying to position themselves, if they still can, of course. Words that falsify the edge of Being are already breaking down; because the light-pulsation of hearts is perhaps not sure to truly show itself even in the idyllic dawn of romanticism.

It would be good if the simple average person would regularly observe the sacred curvature of his life, with its swinging weight, in which he was born long ago, and in which he has learned to thrive - as he does - out of necessity. Without a net, on just one rope, it is necessary to move forward one step at a time, hopefully towards the West rather than the East. In a tense soul, even solid calm is increasingly flammable.

My faded Sisyphus face! Frame yourself with unshaven shadows! A tangle of tufts of fur tangled with each other, a chaotic mess in Samson! In the detail of cracked silent mirrors, a deserted, extravagant silhouette looks wolfish with itself: a matter-of-fact, earthly copy of itself! The feeling of eclipse surrounds me many times, and not a single point of a pinpoint — it deceives me with the hopes of Prometheus hopes into an ever-increasing uncertainty, my eternally restless spirit!
 
Silent holy hatred sneaks at me on every level! the message of thinning handshakes sneaks into lagging sound noises! The distance on my face between my inner self is getting bigger! He would be freed in the orphaned arms of a prisoner-embracing love trapped in me, and even now he cannot be himself: a child of Peter Pan-complex! The Blonde Time escapes on its own, too; my gaze captivated the bowed scars of my long-vulnerable sadness! Determined perseverance, if not - but it would drive me to do sincere humility, to strive for the good and the people! Behind the scenes, you have to behave in a resilient way and grow up for the tasks provided!
 
My light-thirsty soul was stolen early in the dark! Meter’s Kharüddiszi’s mouth gaping more and more when I face myself with chattering children on my own! "How could the disassembled minutes be reassembled?!" Redeeming Death cannot bring mild or secured dissolution if our inner demons are chasing and haunting us

Leeches and gnats are already spitting ***-licking, hazelnut-brained skulls! Everyone is constantly found easy on the buzzing pharmacy scales and everyone is fleeing from the insured liability! Hardworking mixers can do it - they can hardly catch submissive mice as their voices! Competing with assorted slang passwords, they scold the moles that are churning out of culture! Today, only the maid's ladder can be walked in this pathetic compromise! Voluntarily further annoying spatial relationship; death jumps without stretched net!
 
Jacquud's Dream Life Advance as a Leading Motif: New-Rich Eastern Europeanized, tohonya Way! Persistent gunpowder smell, unnecessary aggression raging around me! My conscious, cowardly cowardice puts me to the test, and because I know: the flames of the intellect are fading in brain-sized brains that are already inherited with eternal obsessions! In a lukewarm, homely environment, webs of intentional forgetfulness can also enter that way! - Invited small-death, gracious killer moments are played by a suicide candidate trying as a dog!
 
Moments into the Darkness of Doom in my dreams! The long-awaited sentinel-strass is always wrong! Anyone can cross the living paths! For there is always a crooked barrier of oblique intent; "You have to prosper at all costs!" - Compliance and step - by - step turbocharged everyone! Every exotically seductive Smile of the Universe, flirtatious gaze, is degraded to a projected sensory disappointment! And they still want to feed a deliberately waiting for a roast pigeon like a well-fed child “some”! I can resist your wish - even out of morality! In green-molded, jerky manners, chivalrous politeness can be in vain.