He squeezed himself out there into our maze. The humble, small-style toys of logic believed to be an invincible, even smaller or larger situations, are filled with a filth of the present time, which can no longer be improved. We feel infallible, and we know that we often need to go through the impassable, girbe-gurba roads, even if we can hardly change it.

The silent, accomplice, start -up - can still come in handy. Just the refreshing, refreshing tingling of the found soul harmony, which can only be offered by the Savior Universe -if you like -as a gift. In the russians of the Justitia weighs, we can trust more and more rarely, as well as in our handshake, spicl-like friends.

Halfway between the falls and the falls, we are all walking over a half-or two millimeters of rope dancers in just one or two millimeters; For a long time, the redeeming moments of bean, cherishing caress, ready -to -call consolations seem like an unattainable distance ...

Stigma stamps were now struck on adults on adult, cared, dismantled faces, which still had a curious playfulness of eternal children. Lame anger, disgrace, seems to be more and more fashionable and stays in fashion. - We dip our clown image in the flour powder of the weekdays, but we no longer dare, nor do we want to laugh with ourselves.

Once we will just look back at us mirrors from the bottom of the curve-groteszk, an unknown torso face, and then the judgment of the crowd sakes: how and how we got here?!

We crouched together, halfway between the jaws of the present and future Janus, and no matter how much we decide where we have no idea where we go. There are tremendous prison chains of existence hanging into raba-winged souls. In the forgotten, confidential handshakes, the secret apocrypes of the eyes, the transgression of the universe, which is a bit bordered by the immortal tingling, which is already unnoticed there is something strange; The eyes are more like dripping stars.

In any case, the soul has a new bone bridge smell, massive silence, and it is not yet aware-at least for the time being-whether we have been a fashion beast on the altars of our strained everyday life, or just a casual Yorick-mood?! "Because suddenly, the order and system of intent-by-intentioned order and system run, while the mass army of conscious madnesses often dart."

It is customary to guide silent wildlife on halves to know their own place in the world, which may seem, which may seem, becoming more shallow, superficial, and small. - Axis, medium, or if you like balance can be the writing, text, books. Rather, rather than some self-sufficient, deliberately exhibitionist celebrity-idiot.

Because Hübris, Sanda Döjf, pumps into a sticky small camp of the fake, dizzy, and rogues, which the simpler average does not even know if he dares to believe anyone even.

The stunning, mushroom-smelling mole trick now, all of them, are all galatically, as the clean balance and the ability to reconcile the permanent reconciliation are increasingly insensitive. Embodied ideas, such as exaggerated phalanster theories, are involuntarily grouped in wild ideas that are their own grotesque cartoon.

The more real, real meaning of being is shown in the same way; More and more people are chewing on obsolete roots, gillys, beetles, as even the excise tax on durable everyday food prices has risen well, and this is not a joke in the eyes of many. The roots of the digital neo-avantgarde network are rocking their victims, Y and Z-generation members, who have been involuntarily sniffed by the coach profession.

It was as if arrowheads were drilled around the stigma-level stamped-souls, and at a accelerated pace, the human empathetic and tolerant emotions were purely purulent, which could have been good to make lasting compromises. - Long bees stick to that particular sticky fly paper - true useless - because everything can be swimming who has trust relationships and enough money.

Why is the best feeling nowadays the restrained, but lasting pity that is actually sniffed when they are going to wicked and teased?! -The mass-man Darido tumultus also became a concert hall, and the order was still believed to be an only person, but he could hardly know.

In the furrows of the foreheads, unexpected problems and troubles are now settled; The hopes that were believed to be missed would still be so good to get back from the whirlwind of the sea. The dark rags of the overwhelmed nights, like the tangled amber, unexpectedly wrap the body and soul's complex instinct molecules, which are absorbed and can be integrated into the cells of the cells.

In the midst of increasingly difficult overtime on weekdays, they ventilate their tasteful, swearing sieves from motorists when they are late or are sitting in the rush of traffic jams.

In our world -wide anxiety, why can we feel that everything and everyone is for sale, bribed, or just emotions swap and falsify at the same time?! Human-wreckage offspring, even inverted roots, sprinkled or even scapied from wet drained lands-there is no new blood vessel length, in which man himself can only be transit.

Nowadays, it is not good to be a lot of slit, after all, puzzles guarding secrets can be ashamed of the universe or love-believing love with enigma-level Morse signs; Why do you have to drag on a rope like the vulnerable stray souls with the delicious diva ladies, consuming angels?! Soaked eyelashes are dripping like dark, tattooed ditches, while confetti-racks sprinkle a small bargain.

Between artistically composed gorgo heads and centaurs, they can look less and less in the way of humans; It is unbearable, not-deserved, useless, superficial applause for the ugly, fornica!

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!

Unnoticed kitsch-suspicious movements manipulate, distort, and surround their unprotected victims; It is as if they could not swam the fraud and the multiplied collapse themselves, because only the sincerity of souls is the only viable path. The moment is no longer divisible, as well -thought -out lies leave molds in the pores of cells.

The tamed faith of pipes often bleeds on a nippy lips if they cannot feel the amber laundry of the righteous universe; Hammer strokes of breaks and suspicion remain with people, if you want it or not, because it becomes part of it. It would be so good to bandage the broken wings of iron angels, not to wait in exchange for financial benefits.

The lashes are extended, and in the shade of the man, the man's tanned, wake -up coffee is still staring; His chronic mornings are delighted, thirsty, as if he were no longer drunk, but it was sobering the origins of instincts. Life often rings us unexpectedly, like a set alarm clock that goes around again and again.

The decades have come back and forth into the haunting periods of unemployed childhood, when everything could seem much more predictable and maybe simpler. Sometimes only truth can examine the holy sins of the eternal moments broken. It would be good to leave the camp of the fixed liar believing once and for all!

It is increasingly limping or shattering, Mihasna's Perpatvar, Vocabulary preaching is an obsco of the long -brainwashed thoughts. Because almost everyone already knows, or at least guessing that chess steps - sure, sure - should be harmed with a higher power, and do not press unnoticed the certainly prepared, symbolic red button that can deliver a giant mushroom cloud.

They put on the infinite, illusion sheet of lies, if necessary, if not, as if the human soul would have been more ancillary loss or a commodity to its waist; There are plenty of people who may even have a weedwriting in fruit flavors with a calm heart, as it serves their wise interests. It is as if they get used to it in the cells to be angry with themselves in the cells, not just the world that has become a place.

Because all depths, falls, are also a mouse hole in itself, from where it is not possible in the spiral labyrinth circles, as they deliberately removed the clamp-opening, redeeming keys to existence. Rather, everyone is deliberately nesting in the tuna indifference and forgotten behind their fence, where the silence has long been filled with dirt. Temporary immobility, like some silent betrayal, enters the pores of the mucus skin unnoticed.