But Life doesn't have a fence yet: Founding is still a mistake, and that's my father's biggest problem: "You're very old at the age of thirty!" - he says, and with crying wow screams, begging supplication voices, I should send a message to my mother to encourage and keep encouraging her, - because she fits me very well!

Many were threatened, in many ways with swear-crowd words and all worm-invasions: “No wonder the child doesn’t go among people! Make friends!" - Cheap consolation! I should stay true to my fears too! I’m still hanging out in this lifeless and weird age - but I can’t cling to fear forever!

He does not yet have a house foundation for a common future, and his soulmate's physical reality is lacking, but he has faith and a will for the firm character to endure and put up with the trials of the great world; the pessimism of helplessness becomes more and more binding, holding me tighter. And it is possible that the pension contribution will not be mailed permanently by hacking eb-hands!

The hopes of an imagined more beautiful life are tied to the bars of the Present, if a swan hand caressed and caressed me, at least my confused thoughts might be even more: I could be more optimistic! But there is now a fog settling out there as a hedge, culminating in the gloomy reality of time: "Don't let your good spirits be ruined!" - says my more experienced man in his veteran voice, Mind! - And there may be so many ordeals s

with the calm of the unlikely, he can still only be alone and is he right? - I am afraid of the unknown uncertainty almost many times and doubly, because I can't know for sure, the accidental luck of beginners was just mine, or the caress.

There were scary scarecrows then, wolves with ordas-jaws - like a bunch of barns, I'll tell you now! In indigestible anthills, revenge-thirsty beatings, tortures for animals. There were dishonorers, torsos in the moral mud, monotonous and prickly rib-foot fractures like a thorn, screams of grace begging in the school toilet, which could be smelled from afar!

And then there were contented sleeping tales, "Well, everything will be fine!" And, "Don't be afraid!" - and with a pleasing fist-right, sly-eyes, we ourselves have all become emigrants within the school in our morals: we have adhered to our principles! There was little satisfaction against the inner rush of bone-breaking slaps, a sacred vow: We'll show you! And like a bombshell, the many ugly punches ripped through us! “Emergencies roared through our thick threads on thick wires, at a troubled, violent pace:‘ If you stay in school, you’re sure to end! You will die! ”
- And there were no ominous intuitions that he was conceived in hell every day in the midst of deliberate, drug-dusting and stumbling; and the adult incomprehension proliferated up the weedy tarack in the other hemispheres of the brain! How did it happen then?

Without secret, benevolent human-faced angels, I might be able to smell myself today and not give violets as a gift! I won non-violin, eternally contagious wounds during duels: My gap tears were tainted with lots of vile, worthless sputum! And every single day, when given that I could survive, I could run sluggishly, and with an asthmatic obsession like a shoreless pursuer:

An uninhabited wound that longs for understanding and shelter! And yet how unfulfilled was the flood of supplications for the deaf, the last rock of cooperative humanism ?!

How fertile, sniffing now is the serenity. Maybe this is the proud or sublime time of enlightenment, is it so sublime, strange? You can chat here only with mythical signs, hand signals and the quietest! Together they are here: young scholars, wise-looking prophets - monks who have remained with intention and tradition even in recent times. Together they watch the immortal immortality of the letters!

Then they come when the day is over soon and too suddenly over! The inexplicable ancient secret of books rests in letters embedded in letters; offering himself towards complete immortality! - perhaps it is really in this holy place that the remaining ray of hope, its light: The immortal, eternally thirsty thirst of enlightenments?

The greedy and insatiable thirst of the Enlightenment is now foaming the Knowledge into big sips to fill the still shoreless and uninhabited mosaic pieces of the brain! And man should always distinguish between immortal lines, eternal thoughts: Destruction and Creation!

To find answers to life's recurring and summary questions, and not just to answer questions with unending questions! The eye beetle, like bustling, motoring ants, is purring the silent, speaking camp of letters! And while an uncomfortable neon light with its unfriendly glare rays constantly injures the retina like a needle: The point is, let's continue - yes - on it, more and more, and more! Anyway, the latest knowledge is always discovered first, and only then does the suffering past come together from its crumbs!

And even if it is superfluous to prove it, the individual truth, because it is an evident one - something should be done responsibly to make the operation of human wellheads understandable here!

And when one sins a little and falls into sin: He gurgles chocolates down his throat with unauthorized methods, giving one-person cakes the ultimate honor of such sublime and sublime passions as being in love! To become one: Flour, water, eggs with an immortal yet metaphorically changing dough body, mouth-watering, bohemian distillates, can be created for rebirth! - One can and feels conceived, the subtle, superstitious details do not yet form - only at the cost of hard work -


the whole and thus the re-created Universe is sanctified: A bite of only tastes, smells, and thoughts - a redeeming noble task: To rename people into unity, a common wavelength, if possible!

In the rumen of abundance in the furnace, on the wedding bed of flame-caves, the flame gave birth to millions: diligent yeasts again, they could recreate even man-made dough. How many uplifting and special miracles does it hold, and how many more can the waiting, the well-deserved fruit of our patience, unfold?

And how the dough shape fills and swells: it resembles the condition of blessed mothers, while its waistline increases in a curved curvature, and it is exciting, as if only the Sun was caressing. You see, there will be plenty of good, and the dated universe will be carefully highlighted, with due maternal tact; be careful not to crack your existing cartilage,

and they are dressed in a heavenly garment of sifting powdered sugar, which is falling like snow, and it sweetens as many tiny ***** of true pearls as the sieve sifts! "We're still waiting with a scurrying worried stomach." In the attic of our mouth, in the meantime, the charm and the fried bride were served directly to our table!

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.

I very much feel sorry for the tearful ******, who gave her martyrdom as a gift to someone she loved best: and the soul of her fragile, blessed heart dreaded a thousand ominous horrors, even fire, though she had learned early on: Deception, rejection, and suffering. Outside, a charming smile was hidden on the fit child's face, - I guessed the swirling dying of tears then - in his star-cherished, proud eyes, the cosmos emptiness conceived because of his sorrows!

Selfless, angelic goodness was his most miraculous antidote, and while comforting others with a vulnerable mood perhaps, he always seemed to comfort himself a little, and the self-forgotten, heavenly smile: It was a nuclear explosion of stars than when planets more valuable because of irresponsible recklessness!

And now he was unstoppable, in order of war, he also marched against the tide of bullets of our tears, and every single whistling, hissing sigh wounded his ashes, hollow face. "I was very sorry for the tearful ******;" my bleeding heart sunk into lethargy that I had to see through the veil of cleansing tears, his broken desires and dreams!

But I would have comforted the poor then and there! I would have kissed the queen eggs of her feet even more — the blood was only gradually throbbing like a volcanic eruption! We would have comforted each other with a love of selflessness: You and Me!
"But the traces of the lost, happier times also died with the curse of a secret and quiet monotony: And only your constellation shines on me from a distance of billions of years of loneliness holes, up there in the vast space of the empty mourning sky!"

Curious, overzealous and eager to babble on the innocent head: I silabize the delicate strands of amber that leaned gracefully on me, and my clumsy hand of oak finds small cracks in the bulbs of a tired lily head. And meanwhile, I whisper words of love, what do you mean by a horse-tying son! Kit Due to the piety of Fates guided to me I estimated in my world life I, yet my tongue silently rang my expanding words that anything

I could have confessed to him too! "That's how I dreamed of it patiently, with increased slowness." And when two bombshell lips clicked in front of my eyes and the immortal kiss poem exploded, a little maybe I died myself too! Who once had the unbroken belief that I had done wisely by smoothing out the pregnant worries of my past - now I just stumbled, and I could only stand betrayed: I was most frightened of the irreversible wounding!

The tiny and palpable molecules and particles of the universe shattered in space, and the consciousness of infinity, the Inheritance of Nothing, became! The law of apostate togetherness was already dictated by others: Perhaps stronger heart powers. It was as if I were floating in a vacuum between the shells of disembodied and soulless matter,

as if there were no longer any heaven on earth, an adhesive flesh system, and every little cell of proliferating blood circulation! Then I shattered myself into tiny pieces, and since then, a hole has been opened in the place of my heart! "The highest order had to be obeyed anyway, and now a murderous silence lurks and accepts!" Frustration is accepted forever, adopted!