Now I am drifting toward an invisible, swaying goal, even a sailor in storms; I go tirelessly lame, I stumble silent. The fog-filtered, stupid sunlight is now dense; You can hardly point to the direction, while outside, the world and the wise man shrink. It was as if sorrow, joy, it were a drink, and he couldn't let the dreadful doubts and haunting fears melt in the crouching of the soul.

In the maze of the brains, the memories that are considered lasting can soon be on the path of stubborn fading if memory goes bankrupt. Because now - it may seem like it - the average is stifling, and the inner circles, which used to be tempted, would have to step out and wanted to stay. While it would be good to believe that free-to-beer is stronger than the wild baundy hand that destroys and never builds, they are an unequivocal shortage of the otherwise uncertain future.

In the sneaky, knife -stalls, they even wander splashing, playful dolphins, even if the angels require money, petty materials, without really getting married, chessboarders are cheap, pathetic figures with ulcerative stomachs, Checking wooden heap, settled, drunk, far from sanity. One or two social workers -looking at them -but that is the maximum.

The huge gear of work is unnecessary to continue to oil and polish, as the thousands of bustling ants are vulnerable to the lords of the compulsive, until you can do it for cheap hunger while the Darius Muri Muri is upstairs. Social crossings and bridge beats between gaps seem to be intentionally no way.

Freedom of appearances - you don't even realize - drunk, and later, in your durable disillusionment, is drowned much later into permanent nausea. With stolen time, you may not always be able to treat 100%even so; You move in the orphanage of your closest familiar friends, as if you were no longer there, or just intentionally linked the lines of a pathetic, small -style life.

You think you are compromised with yourself, and that the curved mirrors were telling the truth when they showed a false torso image; Behind your childishly horned-naive face, the waves of decades echo silently, incessantly. At the zebra, the urge to commit suicide is caught; When should you step out of this confused, superficial world so that you wouldn't be able to live here?!

A lost romantic moment -if it had been -could hardly compensate for so many stigma seals; They said that they had not been fired now, only forced the expensive suits in a temporary exile, which you even openly know that it was always a roar.

It would be good to cling to the unbridled scream of seagulls, but feel that you can fly and discover new places from the very, very low, lean severance pay that the powerful directors have been pushed to you. - True, true! Now you are just a ruined debris wall, a tile without a fugue that can fall and break on the ground at any moment.

You know, it is not good for a long -term shortage or the everyday brainwashed indifference; Rather, stay yourself and don't believe in unnecessary rumors that things will change! Do not have a condition in your existence or as if!

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?!

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 ...

Ourselves should simply be comforted, perhaps crystal clear throughout a living life; Our committed, stupid, yet human, petty mistakes are warning, until finally, it can easily be left for us. The profound power rehearsals of will and humility are barely existing nowadays, only if it is just mentioned at higher levels of instructions or referred to it within spectacular frameworks.

Because for some reason the aspects that are now hidden; Whoever broke up, then broke up, and eventually forgotten the right of stormy emotions, as further spiritual weights, the soul's ever -wearing, vulnerable depths, where even the miner is not very daring.

Celeb-blink, beauty-made shores on the conveyor belts are carried by the digital space everywhere, so that the sensationalist and the average person who has made a lousy bargain can only stare at the life of Jancsi. When will billions of understanding molecules-stimulating emotions come permanently and really fulfilled?!

It would be good to feel in the depths of the Star Eyes with the omniscient eye, and the manipulated soul could not allow anyone to bribe it at any time.

How could you know what the sweet-sad childhood remembrance, the playful joy, the childish-naive curiosity, could have been known to the moment, when the sacred gates of free sense were secretly adopted by the understanding mind, the maternal care.

That the footprint of the long-standing eternal love may never disappear in the periodical limits of the time, as they are now in the depths of the drummering perits, and as dormant Atlantis Continents are still patiently waiting for them to be re-addressed in the name of sincere emotions.

It is often so worrying everyday life in Sififus's burden on how dark the clouds are sitting on each average human heart. Or  
How unfair was all the bice-shaded bumps that we once learned to walk, and while some were crying and giggling on the ground, others sprinkled themselves and went on, glorifying the joy of movement alone.

That momentary happiness may be worth more than the continuous forty years of lasting, the bitter -sweet, lasting isolation. That nowadays there are more and more worm-heart tarcks and fewer pearls in human stars.

How do you know that when someone as a teenager was not seen in the cross -section of the mirrors looked like a duckling duckling - but the one who was meant to be. How could a crowd know what it is like to be ill in the deadly round of the dear unexpected-suddenly minutes, and the passing away from birth is captivated. I say with questioning sadness: You have no idea!

He starts, starts every day, and the man is unable to wipe the rush from his face. Between two rushes, they have a finite judgment in mortal times. A prudent citizen clings to tomorrow's momentum in the swinging stream of tomorrow. And though you know it will lose forever - you can still pay attention to the solid throne of the dawn.

The happier life with a bread-scent cannot be the unfortunate, stumbling-stumbling shipwreck. Prisoners of warfare stands for watching a hunger at night…

In cool, snow-white robes, they are in succession from the memorials of unworthy past and good friends. The handshakes that can be obtained as a win-win gift also made each other a *******-alleged promises, thread, and light-blooded vows.

Darkness on the syrup puddles of everyone is welcomed by betrayal. It would be good to open the onion peel as a wise man to declare and grow more liberated. The reverse embodiment of Marcona's wax puppets constantly testify and remind me of shameful conscience.

There is an anxious hope under the bush hands or pearl nails. Often, they are desperate for yesterday, and they crave for time. There are no more prodigal refuge in the reality of objects. Most witnesses are cowardly, while judges stare either with a dead deafness or persistent, unstoppable indifference to the outside world.

The tabloid and social media are full of root-nasty calculating glances and unnecessary shapes. Whose solid and faithful friendship could have been disappointed in every bush when they go for the recesses of celebrities in the face of won!