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!

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

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

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!

Just because my secret electricity turned into a scorching passion in me alone, there could have been something unspeakable, tangible Extra, plus things between us, that could have repaired the fuses of my burned-out heart! In the secret courtyard of charred keys, where rampant cell division was always present, all throbbing connections were suddenly broken, irreparably damaged!

We didn’t know what to do with him, and we didn’t learn to treat him fairly just because
we meditated in the unconsciousness of the immortal minutes, and we wandered for a long time, and in our relationship, which can be called by name, at most only one of us is here! - Yet the meaningful time spent with Him became an important and indelible part of my existence!

- Behind the gazes of heaven, he was greeted with a laughing smile whenever he could, if he was not squeezed into foolish conditions, compulsions to meet others: When he could only be himself! It was a garden of wildflowers, pregnant and full of the scents of Eden!

And I couldn’t go after him in the alleys of everyday life weaving tragedies. "Today, surely the sublime happiness of the Universe is his." The future of a caring-hearted mother. But do you still think of the times when for a few moments only He was the center of the world, and loving troubadours, zealous Adonis, as loyal lollipops, sought hard-won graces through struggles and struggles, while only one of the overbearing ranks, just kneel in front of him?

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

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

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

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

Why is it still true that stars with silver arrows are struggling above my head in spiderweb light? It's a very, very whitewashed sky. In the shadow of emerald-scaled cypress leaves, perhaps Someone-Someone may still be waiting for me. From the tired cave of my selfish sadness, a somewhat concerned grotesque-distorted face stares back at me; it still wants to decipher the complex meaning of life, and enjoy what is still possible.

As if tamed joy, happiness too, were an ugly, hunchbacked little clown, which we can possess only in the small degree of moments, the peacetime Ariadne's thread of memories would flicker above our heads incessantly, if we let it be carried away by action, zealous deed, determined will. It is often easier to believe the tale of conscious exclusion, because then it is true that no one bothers us. It would be better to patiently and wisely cherish the web of interconnected superstitious glances, and rather to constantly look: what secrets and messages might the other person's golden heart hold?!

- Radioactive sighs can now even reach the sky. - Because the future is now an increasingly uncertain, deliberately salted, barren desert, where only the influential can have the sole privilege, while the little people are crushed, robbed, and what is even more merciless: they are trampled like vile little grains of dust. Instead of a moving, limping, dwarfed nobody on the shoulders of others, the many limping, fake-tinny fools create illusions of crosstalk; Nowadays, there are fewer and fewer people who still understand that it is not the meager promise of destinations that tempts people towards miracles - but the visceral beauty of the bumpy, challenging road section itself!

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…

We crowd, crowd, and even interfere with each other in ever-narrowing, gradual spaces; an eternally swirling roller coaster-calvary, like a kind of peculiar homesick Odyssey, which can be realized less and less with dignity. Our joy is only rarely, if at all, and the momentary intention of liberation is lost from everything else. The Lack, which is saturated hourly and then emptied in an infinite amount, swells and swells more and more - if necessary, if not - and from age - perhaps - it can endure less and less.

Because the return journey - if necessary, if not - can increasingly often come in one's way involuntarily, and there is no way to solve it, like a secret worldly riddle: where should one go?! - In many cases, one would rather remain a rabbit than a poacher. Many times, a cunning hand still nudges him on the back of the head, always coming up with the latest reason to outwit this present life with dignity.

Everyone is just waiting for applause, appreciation, fame; meetings with friends, acquaintances, birthdays, major disgraced, profit-oriented big holidays, celebratory parties are gradually being postponed. The holy helpless one of joys remains like this a little until the end of time, since birth is also a kind of intermediate countdown to the final passing away. Even if a person tries to break away in the end, in vain; the wild, clinging blood circulation jungle of the eternally greedy big cities grinds him down. Every heartbeat, every trembling sigh of the underworld has been marked with invisible wounds that will last a lifetime!

The formation of Golgotha-Nobody, who lives in the shadow walls of human lives, is growing! In negligible realities, the dream time that can be won is also running out! I would welcome the Shadow Petals that openly reveal themselves with empathy! Until you can reach everyone with its waves of true pearls, the pearly, sacred streams of redemptive crying, the momentary, tiny spark of truth is hardly authentic! Heart gates hidden hidden in the cage of ribs can open, but only who is worth it! Then the humble, alumous silence of the subconscious is torn apart: in me, the living myth of your astonished, childish curiosity still unfolds its magic flowers in the nests of eye-stars inside!
 
It is less and less possible to believe in happy promises with a good sense! When can they already notice the vulnerable, human prayer in the hearts flying embers, which he would beg for refuge for help?! - In selfish hermitage, permanent testimonies of manuscripts were deliberately exiled; which you should have been really proud of and satisfied with! Self-overwhelming, outlying big cities are more solemnly drowning than planting trees! The donkey degeneration of the future is devouring itself; multipopultural thief-slang fish bag with poison spit!
 
This now tattered, lousy Age dreams of appearance well-being, and even the housekeeper can keep order and sweep up the rubble of unusable waste materials! Testosterone titans kneaded in the Phantom-Atlantis world are only for grumpy, bikini fairy blues; barbaric idiocy occupies a living space and treats the nights of first dates as an ancient insult! "The affirmative Life Panic is in short supply in itself!"

I couldn't grow up! Doubt shook to the bone! My vulnerable being is peeling, like the sun phobia! Brain-shrinking silly idiots echo on modern channels as clamps! Your vigilant reminder woodpecker is on your forehead! Your conscience is constantly interrogated and addressed! "Out of the desire for adventure out there, out of greed for careers, they ******* the Sanctuary of the Earth Universes!" Form breaker XXI. cheap Celebecskés dream of lustful immortality in the 20th century!
 
You can also fall out of Paradise quickly, and not just by tasting forbidden fruits! "The" camp of those who know everything better "is bouncing off me, shouting loudly! Human wrecks shrinking into fetal pores like crushing vultures and jackals are brawling in drug addicts that cause serious addictions! Even my existing cowardice in my shed little boyhood cannot be intentionally unnecessary! My onion peel self can only be reached by those who approach with empathy and friendliness!
 
The perceptible point decomposes into a thin translucent eye for human eyes: as endless crumbs, only sporty-**** titans and goddesses can kick into a ball! Snap-out, bachanaly party queens will instantly free you from your longing dreams! "You know: the Guardians could hardly stay awake, who could still be honored with their sincere friendship!" "This is how I intentionally turn to myself: a spiral inward spiral staircase!"
 
I am forced to lurk among the constantly grinning flower and gorilla heads like a prodigal traitor many times! "Even among human-shaped caresses, there was hardly a person who couldn't take responsibility for what he did intentionally!" - Disco rats offer occasional drugs and services in the form of profitable hyenas, and for those who are still looking for a place, they become pale. Jerky and phalma-manneredness developed into a way of life! Only the most successful heroic heroes can be

Sit for a while and listen carefully! Listen, as if the overwhelming weight of our spoken words is decided by snowmen before the verdict, and our heartbeats sound like gunshots! Because there is a need for someone who, by paying attention, recognizes and understands the stifling vulnerability! I need someone who, instead of the chirps of the outside world cirada: he feels with the roar of interiors, remorse,

and protect, comfort! "Just sit still, at least for a fleeting moment: Instead of those who, due to their remorseful hot-headedness, were all running away and not looking back!" Those who all laughed at you in a despicable way, with a gala giggle, and now are grieving at their own pathetic misery! - Sometimes you don't ask or talk, because often the meaning of words is secretly lost when you listen to the Heart!

Maybe if we mix humiliated old age into our dark hair, you might be wiser, and maybe you’ll understand better! The problem with emotions is that they change faster and change faster than the weather - the faded, idyllic image comes to mind - and all we can do is try to find favorable places -
Although there is not a single, short iris life for this! - Just sit for a while and listen! My boredom is to believe only you will be filled with metaphors of tolerable content, and you will be set as a target if you miss the opportunity to fill all the essentials in order to live completely and whole! His bad and unfortunate cards were deliberately shuffled by Fate,

your business: Avoid the intrigues of fate, travel forward on safe roads - and only risk the tangible - if there is still cover!

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!

Why do we feel that if they have been lined up for decades, as if Time were a false witness, even innocence would contaminate a person to the core?! From the black-and-white films of negatives - back then - it would have been much easier to evoke an eternal moment in the captivity of darkrooms, which is perhaps characteristic only of each individual.

The roads directed towards the finish line have become one-way labyrinths, just like the crossroads of the desire for faith. Many may not know it yet, but mere good-willed intentions are not always certain to be chosen with free will.

Often they do not dare to notice the hunters lurking in the depths of everyday life, who exist and breathe just like anyone else; one could say that they deliberately, with superficial pleasure, eviscerate life to the core. - because now fewer and fewer people are excited by the consciousness of half-humanity; that they sold themselves and made a deal.

The good thing about romantic love in the past was that it was as if the One-Beloved had carried the feelings in her womb, so that she could then give them birth every day, while the pain was replaced by selfless, radiant happiness. In every case, it ends the same way; whoever sets out on a long, unknown journey is not sure that he will find what he was really looking for. One wonders where he could have ruined the selfish game theories, as well as the manipulable psychological tools, if he looked into superstitious eyes!

Alien-lips touch the wells of Almighty pleasures on the first night! Inside, you can still feel a heartbeat-pounding heartbeat if you took greedy sips from the wild drink of immortal instincts! As if something forgivable, ancient sin would draw them into the self-giving Nirvana desert of the Universe! And it is not possible to feel and say enough, realizing that the other half of their souls are pounding beside us with a bud-opener and every kiss is a donor-redeemer grace! What a seductive sound can sound like a symphony of silence in our ears listening alone, so that we can re-fly from the flames of emotions to the beating hearts as Phoenician birds re-creating themselves!
 
We would only dare to drink from it even more boldly: to offer anything with open-minded eyes from the open book-soul, to sincerely slow down the broken, tiny details of moments before the magic of the superstitious ghost finally fades away! "We walk up and down in an extraordinary holy rampage in the wedding ports of blood molecules!" Every glance dropped must be an exact mirror, otherwise it makes no sense! From the noise of distant seasons, we are all coming back unpolished; our single head soon hurts into the steady grabbing of targets that started to rust!
 
The difference between the straightforward pitfalls of distance can hardly be appreciated by anyone; Start-up places are getting harder and harder in infinite space - in the paradise of plans, even a stuck insect is harder to thrive! The imaginary Dreams are stuck in the pathetic, naked snail shapes of my chubby body! They need to compete more and more and it is more and more difficult for me to stay a Human!

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.

Skeleton-armed trees threw a dagger at seeing it cringe! Wall-to-wall! Seeing that he had touched the World as a fallen blind spot; unexpectedly a shard-tiled tile enters its mirrors and hangs on the edges of Being! On Golgotha nights behind the eyes, you don’t know when the guards can come hand in hand with the Watchers! On their foreheads there shines the ticket of the human desire for the ceaseless right! The invited Death grabs us when all living things are undressed and the ash-swallow bodies of skulls fading in empty eye rolls are soulless! He fell to the ground in a split space, dug into a hut and returned!
 
Because every vision deteriorates into the fog if we don’t pay enough attention to its voices! They speak for you from the ******* of Wounded Time; as a mortal, your naked loneliness is better accustomed to; perhaps even the immortal Universe can be destroyed at any time if the pulsating heart-petals are trampled! "Now the sobered Indifference is breathing and living on our worn-out, prostituted allegiances are no longer ours!" Our little boy's orphanage is constantly calling home as homesickness! We became prey on a cheap, otherworldly feast - we wander among ghostly summoned orphans!
 
We do not yet know who will return to our lives with love? "We already live there behind all the things that can be challenged, our silence is swallowing up dumplings of silence, even the Silence of Times carries signs on you;" your every day is more treacherous and more liar than your nights! People’s pride hides stigma wounds on your face every day and they don’t see how important sincere Friendship would be if they looked behind your mask! - The Savior closes the Dear radiance behind my lashes

The pathetic exhibitionist worms searching the surface thought that they could find the semantic, more real meaning of how in the useless, two-dimensional power of the subconscious superego; perhaps they were no longer really interested in walling up their own petty vanity, like the Masons Kelemen and Kelemenne, who were volunteers. It would have been better if the self-evident fragments of silence had opened the rusty soul gates, where only the viscerally stripped Adam and Eve costumes mattered and not the material goods, such as: who is earning more than a million right now?!

Because the vain, stubborn person, having lost the deeply hidden, humiliated childhood that keeps so many secrets, constantly wants to look at himself only from the outside. – In the Universe before Existence, the primordial vibration, like some encrypted Morse code, still trembles all the time, invisible, but no one would notice; it would be good, like a butterfly, to pupate a little into each other's crystal-clear souls, where only honesty, unconditional nobility and goodness exist, – excluding the harmful intent of lies.

Consciousness, like some automatic machine, struggles feverishly with itself amidst the Sisyphean burdens of the burdened everyday life; our instincts have become an eternally thirsty, wounded Nirvana desert. Like a mad lapping wave, we rush after our unattainable desires, like drowning people who can be further manipulated and exploited.

On the island of Rhodes, the tearing rocks drown in sinful foams. In clear weather, Turkey is proud to see its shores from here. Here, the dazzling blue sky is an accomplice to the sea, allied with his crested foam lover. Where crusaders once rested on holiday during their tumultuous journeys, today the researching, observant, zealous tourist finds trembling, yawning ruins with the victories of the past.
Here you will find houses built of snow-white stone, glowing in sixty degrees of air - if you do not take care of yourself, it will easily be grilled in just a few minutes: Here people relax in the harmonies of tranquility, filled with well-being! A reed-year-old sea-stubble hardened by a reed emerges if one were to head for cooling foams: Bulls and cows are even found in the marital idyll of the busy, prey-hunting dogs.

The island of the god Helios, like a giant Cyclops palm, carefully opens its arms in front of a tired traveler: This rainbow snail-home home of various noble stones is this island allied with the vast sea!

The unattainable dreams of life all multiply here, in one place on the shore. Here the boldly and modestly expanding air castles collapse quickly and quickly; a rare treasure, few decent people nowadays own Diligence: An estimated rare white raven property.

Bikini bombers - as they say nymphs flirt. Flaming insatiable and greedy male hearts around you! Here, the concept of crowding and intrusive twitching is still unknown: the possibility of peaceful coexistence shines in the hearts of those who live in harmony. Yet soul-filling, proud, Greek shores must be abandoned: Homesickness and the motherland have receded with its huge magnetic claws!

Now I am again where the shore is splitting in two; it would be better to finally get over – while I can – all the childish, petty donkey marches that this current digital colonization cannot even half understand, since it is not even blessed with a sense of balance, at most only with a series of manipulations, petty, delusional offers and promises. My drawn-up, increasingly torturous everyday lives, like boomerangs returning to themselves, run around, spinning the pillars of my already diminishing time.

Like a tightrope walker or artist on a half-cut, stretched rope, I am slowly becoming disappointed to the core; and especially in those who held the knife that cut my non-existent, pretended career, my intentions to assert myself. Now all I wish for myself is this: let me see through everything! Let me know and feel in whom weak evil nests, and who can even speak the honest truth in confidence!

For now it is even more of a scapegoat-error that in my shame-stained worldly soul life and withering decay coexist. It would have been better perhaps to have plunged from the intoxicating, immortal peaks of the intoxicating intoxications of the Universe into incarnation immediately, before it was too late; the enchanting redemption passed in order, but so did the certain deciphering, which could still have opened the keys to my heart battered with humility.

Now we must be more and more careful, since tomorrows stripped of the power of petty powerful ones loom over our heads, globalizing all our helplessness. In the corners of brain coils, some nuclear tensions have exploded for the umpteenth time.

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!

I didn't get smarter or braver! - Crying hysterical despair continues to shake the structure of my body - if I suddenly move, I dare to cry alone in the tearful captivity of Turkish and shower roses! The world is still resisting with gnarled ideas and in vain I want to be independent of the mind - to liberate the obligatory conventions of society - It is not possible!

For the honest man also picks up the breadwinner in his day and is broken after eight or ten casual working hours, on the altar of his own vulnerability! Shiny glass ***** appear as indelible shadows in your eyes; planet-sized tears. "He is looking for helpless self-pity, groping for a way out, and no matter how hard he tries to find mercy, he can't find it!"

We are hesitantly wondering who will be forced out of our comfortable, protective beds with the whips of duty at five o'clock in the morning as convicts! If we look at the bottom of mirrors: Our self-pity also spits in our eyes, our pride goes into our eyes! - It flows like dirt inside us, and we ask ourselves out loud ironically:

"That's all we could do ?!" "And we push the child half an onion, bird-watching food as a gift of grace," the shame stamp has been tattooed on our bitter face: If we don't take care of the missing bills, majestic overhead-piles can sweep away our house!

And we feel in ourselves that the honor of our work has been lost today because Man forgot to find something in himself and maybe rediscover it: If all efforts, struggles and wills enrich the yellow earth...

A person's feet often stick out of every box they have picked up. Because people keep interfering in their lives - no matter how much they deny it -. Everyone has been burned many times by the frivolous, nagging, grotesque, hopeless Reality. It would be nice to hope even in the multitude of non-existent things, if that is all it takes for a person to start a new life, which - exceptionally - still has and can have value and meaning.

We have now become a little fed up with the fact that we have always inherited useless sermons and good-sounding hymns of praise from those who were in power at the time; The habit of being mean and sneaky really radically, oppressively settles on our already difficult, stuffy lives, like most of the slimy, slippery promises, with which the brainwashed, and therefore unsuspecting, average person can be lured in.

In the restless workshop of our lives, there is less and less room for the arrival of Universal loves, for a few eternal truer friends who brought salami bread and cinnamon milk gruel during the bitter cold; there are fewer and fewer four or five doors in this world where the prodigal, weak person can knock calmly, even at night or at dawn, because they are welcomed with welcoming love and even seated at the table without a whimper.

Everyone is a bit like the suffering superiority of those with a painful stomach ache, who already sense in advance and know what will happen unexpectedly, and they deliberately look down on those who try or those who get a foothold, just because they did not get it from the abundant interests and networks of patronage relationships. We can no longer be completely satisfied and generous with people who are confident in their superiority and who are perfectly satisfied with themselves, as they increasingly exhibit increasingly suspicious and calculating behavior, at least on the surface!

Maybe I’ve been disgusted by the Whole for a long time p to pretend to heap on jobs on our backs, for cheap labor jobs, and all of us would go there — that others work two hours loosely a day, the other twelve hours a day, and then with these: Fate-tolerant they communicate with chopstick people, with grace-chiré grace: “That’s your wage! I would crack in your seats so I could earn that much! ” - Soaking in suicidal juice of self-pity, feeling of inferiority, loss of honor

now everyone: In the minds of many, it must have turned around what if there were no more Tomorrow, sipping for cheap hunger wages! "And there is no one under the dehumanized sky who preaches, 'Humanity to the son and daughters of man!' - You are boring: In your diminished moral mind you are ungrateful s

useless, you can only be discouraged when it comes to Truth and honesty, while you yourself have long since escaped the balance of tomorrow, on which your conscience will be measured, and how will you be, and by what methods have you been able to survive and tolerate?

- Perhaps it is better if a person is exalted or spit only after the moment of his death, and thus at least as long as his Vulnerability and Vulnerability is spared in his life, The worst fact: Man, leaving everything behind, without his favorite poems, going to the ground with the nakedness of Adam, and then the big Nothing moves to its place in a temporary framework!

If he loses his sure ground under his feet and falls into a chasm, - he writhes, digests himself, his conscience splits, throws into a moon crater, a degraded heart cannot feel! You will only see the indifferent blood of crystal shards if you look at yourself who has lived better days!

He secretly puts his broken existence on a Justicita scale and carefully measures the battered depravity of the mass of flesh: he imagines the happiness of the obtainable Universe and, as an expropriated property, is disappointed if he is deceived and rejected!

Charming, flirtatious looks
stuck in the crossfire of a keeper, a flaming primitive-animal instinct is trapped: Explanation is forced only on the threshold of a lie, once loyalty and oath have become taboo; despised into uncharacteristic bagatell data! He is constantly looking for role models: He would create an epoch-making self-image from the lesser-known novels and poems of fiction: To create knights, exemplary heroes - and even if the media that drowns stuck people is right! - Momentum, persistent enthusiasm, draws the bow like a nerve on fine strings,

and it hangs in the general, preserved guilt! He is scratching himself, his self-pity reaches the skies, and when his entrepreneurial spirit is revived - he no longer dares - the risk of diabetes of the adrenaline rush forces him, and in himself commands cold-blooded, sober serenity! Fighting with ourselves is the noblest struggle - and our self-knowledge can help if we turn to ourselves with empathy:

The echoing words of repulsive squabbles and old-fashioned bounces bounce off the bastions of unshakable Morality! Don't waver, my soul is never vulnerable! In your birth-conscious death-consciousness, do not give yourself

Halfway between my two hands, perhaps, that certain bottomless, lasting disgust will still splash out, like when the diligent, eager patience picks beetles from the emerald leaves of pleasingly grown potato beds, so that there will - hopefully - be no more problems with the crop. As if they were slippery, exposed slug bodies, as if they did not want to understand that they too have their place in the cyclical order of nature, as in the ranking of ecosystems.

These heatwave days greet us now in idle, sparkling whiteness; black cannibal laughter is heard surprisingly close, as if it were the howling of greedily starving wolves, who are not afraid of the cheap anger of hunters, nor the terror of lightning rods.

- A universal age of unbridled debauchery, like a test of floods, as if it wanted to inject itself into the smallest, almost micro-millimeter poles of man, from which there is no escape, but - true - hardly any salvation. Because between pores there is still inevitably hiding, and secretly and cautiously fleeing some inner misguided memory, refuge: the hanging of eyes without perspectives towards the uncertain future.

Man would almost constantly try the nerve endings of sluggish indifference, beneficial infarct-shadows nestle richly in his heart, while he receives a small pension for the time being. Nothing will come of Mak's captivity, because something is preventing him from doing so and will no longer allow him to exercise even the simplest of actions, which wouldn't hurt if it could continue for another twenty or so years!

The Infinite cries, moans, hurts in me; there can be all suffering because the Present is pregnant with eternity! The Flame also believes in pain when it is in labor! How will the fate of the Individual continue to develop in the desolate mischief of the Komos in the expelled space ?! - A junk camp of grim illusions is fighting over our heads! It is devoured because we feel the behemoth in all their members at night! The career desire of the blinding Celeb-Beauties seems to be grasped in this present age, and any collagenized peony can be a presenter!
 
The Indifference described to boredom and the sponge-like **** in human heads became complete; the unrecognizable will-gates closed and the Night was complete! The tomb of Orpheus is dead in Time, and the tiny soul of the Universe can no longer cross the human ocean! Scattered Pile of Ruins In time, human benevolence also descended into insidious souls! Everything can only fall apart on this expanding bullet; the thinking Logos spark fades away and the tuna is threatened with a supernova explosion Stupidity!
 
All dreams of clinging deep to the rose finger of redemptive dawn; prevent possible floating with a practiced routine! In vain would gravity pull the Man down! A gaping vortex will lead you to temptation and you will not be able to free the inner night in itself to create its finishing silence! Hanging on hidden stars, Hope sighs! "Perhaps I am still laboring because in the depths of my wounded heart, Death from heart attacks always knocks!" I would still be looking for a solid point, which would certainly reassure me with a drop of self-confidence and courage; the yolk of the glittering burst of light flows s in the lap of the trenches of galaxies the yawning moon crunches…

I, who loved to please the ladies with complimenting masses of poems and to please the ladies: To increase the heartbeat pumping more and more, to smuggle out the eyes soaked with pearls silently, to hand out the real truth with a handkerchief - I was acne, , polite hand kisses as royal majesties come out!

And it went without saying that they were thrown away sooner and thrown in the trash as a custom of barely used clothes! I was a foolish, hamster-like ***** infected with a non-liberating but hopeless romance, if I had explored the eternal, never-ending secrets of my sweetheart's heart with the ancient sins of passionate obsession!

And I became an idyllic arrogance, a purple pregnant woman with beautiful hope, Kilimadjaro, a pulsating, shameful pimple, which in itself postponed the possible outbreak! Taking care of my life, I put it together I imagined. And the healthy, eternal plans of my mortality are sometimes ugly mocked by the tiny molecules of detail, the incomprehensible or incomprehensible intentional whole!

A confession of love, edited into stanza, is going on today: Both are integral parts of mortal passing! Yet how many wasted, expensive preparations, wording, kneeling sacrifices like dumplings of humility in the throat, and the trembling of trembling, operated knees, had to be added to fall to the surface of the simple fact, to actually show up: while gently nurturing and binding the bleeding wounded heart: A sensual, purple flame flirting with the immortal Universe

The fertile Silence can hardly be shrouded inside! Silent Cosmos-Space is the once soul-seeing eye; a body-left, winged bird that can’t learn to fly again! Stone is captured by breaking hyenas and crushing moral nobility! Escaping from myself, the rattling wave of the Spirit can hardly be heard!
 
A squeak of light projected on rocks only increases its shadow in the dark - it doesn’t warm! A skeleton turned upside down from skin and flesh remains if he reveals and lets go of all secrets: he received a final defense as a gift from this cipher-comedian Fate when the gates of the immortal Universe open! For even if the Spirit left on his face is undressed, he thinks he will be wounded! The Trench of Being is gradually filled with wells of sorrow!
 
Tuning has been going on in me for thirty years and I still couldn't start my continuous life! A lone ark has already ruined our skulls; the sad tears are raging, its pearls are rippling! The jungle hairs of my hiding body are filled with lies lying from the slammed sermon! There is a secret disease in our permeable organs; with the invisible legs kick the Live! "Butterfly's dream sleeps under piles of blankets, flying immortally from one flower to another!"
Being, if you don't take care of your baby's medium, will be nothing! The awakening child awakens in us consciously and half-naked! "Morality is a sin among light-hearted women!" Who smells sweaty, motherless nights and how else can he survive?!

You have decided: you cannot forgive anyone, because it is hardly possible to change anything anymore. You can *****, blindly, hesitantly count on one or two of your old friends and acquaintances, hoping to help you on the path of your pathetic, shipwrecked life, which – it seems – you must walk alone for good. Often you yourself are more like that, held back by conscious fear, a petty spasm of no-man's-land terror, wondering what might still await you among the wolf traps of calculating, compromising everyday life, in the company of people who are no longer even remotely interested in your fate, life, or dreams.

Soul-guts crawl out of the depths of your soul at night; your organs increasingly obey your instincts and your common sense is responsible for them alone. It would be better to escape, perhaps to the sandy, palm-tree beach of another world, where joy, harmony, and carefreeness could welcome you instead of the robot-yoke worries of everyday life. – Now you often feel deep in your soul that you have bet everything on a single well-calculated ***** deck of cards, hoping that the blind luck of the cards would favor you.

All the worries and crosses of forty years of vileness that have deliberately persisted and accumulated in you evaporate, infecting its victims like some envious poison-elixir. You could not accept the slaps of life, the somersault rules that you believed were unbreakable, it would have been good to fit keys into a thousand anonymous, rusting locks, to make the redemptive liberation openable. From your confused nightmares – it would be good to trust – that you will find your way home safely through the One-Someone!

My dad stands in the net of uncertainty, looks down like a long-lived, experienced and timed man, dare to face his young face with a werewolf - my father is entangled in the net of uncertainty:

I see the ramparts of rich heights of porthole, their trembling, gray hedges, and teach with a stubborn mood the eternally unbridled, natural lesson: "Do not give yourself!" - The dogs' chorus of chants yell in the roaring sounds of the street - that I flee and bounce back in a panel vack unless I see them! Bloods are laughing freely, as executioners, as four-footed perils! - My dad's not fine! Asthmatic seizures, hurricane oxygen deficiencies stifle your bushy lungs with suffocation! The doctors liked to try their patience with the patience of the patient, as a kind-hearted prisoner!

The crouching back of the humpback mountains - across the horizon, even a bouncing whip: Lightning-knife zigzag, female twilight wheat kisses the sun's rays. Tomorrow, there will be new trials: Either you bow as an obedient willor, or you will stand as a convicted man, to play with you cheaply and as a rag!

Carefully, there is an ore-ring from the depths of the valley captivity - My father is trapped in a web of insecurity, has become more and more difficult to move, and has a well-developed but still zingara body. No calling, no gesture, just long throats, grumbling sound tapes - With the final countdown begun at Man's birth, he borrows to death! Maybe my dad is bitter, slowly, and like the raw lemon

Leaning against the alley walls of our passing years, the silent silence followed in silence. On the hanging rope of Nirvana between time and space, the body of Adam ourselves looks into the depths of the gaping gaps! On the memorable journeys - where in hand - we go together begging-repenting heart also shivering; afraid to drive home will rarely! In common struggles of being, interdependence carries our own selfish Destiny! It has become a meat-cutting edge, for alamous, squeaky deeds and petty words!
 
Our wakefulness is gradually chewed and ground by the blinded Time! Luxury lives, like open, publicly imprisoned prisons, alternate their lives with seeming prosperities like fragrant lingerie, what more can the future bring them? "As an eternal wandering alien, you should have clung to the Being Sheaths with lasting roots until it's too late!" Choke Being Vacuum always digests its best! Self-beliefs can easily be swept away by the intoxication of the moment! Our committed guilt will continue in the depths of our beating hearts!
 
In a dazzling parade of eyes, we cross in search of our own lives, snarling rays flash on the surface of curved mirrors, snarling clouds! Giant, fornicate fists seem to be elongated, haunting shadows of fear at night: selfish reflections of ourselves! Everyone travels the counted highways of the times alone! - Hesitant attention could still stretch your neck ample; the lonely loneliness of exiled stateless people makes you think and closes around! Amid rapidly spreading shadows, wordless devastation destroys the night of friendship.

Now I should put myself in front of your swan-knees as someone who is definitely sacrificing their lives in a duel, hair - how much have I walked after you now that it becomes familiar in front of the retina of multi-optic glasses that old age is knocking with prickly blinks - but only twenty-nine in the past!

The sublime, confessional-like revelation was familiar: the two of us should have walked along the frontiers of Being together, while it was only possible to suspend the fading tuty of my cowardice for a time! - Yes! Now we have to say that with his piercing knife and reflectors, the ****** is scattering gift shards towards us: I love you!

Now I should discover everything and peel off you and yourself, when, as an old acquaintance, you smuggle the bitter pearls of hurt vulnerability into my everyday life, and I can no longer feel the shelter of your swan hand. Your heartbeat is no longer jingling, and our conscience is torn, our croaking guitar strings now

it should send the melody of Hope. Now we should say, Oh, how much of me You were in one person: The immortal, breathing testimony that hides the consolation of our tears on our magpie faces, and the only Love that has endowed us with eternity! - The near-consciousness of Loneliness's death that I would be social beings then was not a calculated-angel and you were selfless

your selfless, armored confidence; the all-embracing Hope! "My boyish vulnerability could only run after you lost hope - you couldn't keep your treasured, priceless being because you didn't want to."

How ungodly is this land that wildly Hyena's footprint Angel can barely enter ?! The inner soul-night falls to ashes, the pain sizzling into your soul screams! Because the moment thickens to an explosion; every barren Face is another cunning mirror from which we can fall out of our dreams! Those who can guess the plague of the Jackal of others can be fooled to run! Teasing the columns of light, the pathetic Giants of Indifference spit on the Present! Cosmos-space homestead in broken hearts as the only guest!
 
The one who sets out on the essential path behind mirrors wanders with a cherub face to see what really matters! - The breath of unavoidable questions obscures you! - Maybe Love is a hand grenade ?! The nuclei of the Universe unite in volcanic eruptions in superstitious moments! The tunnel is torn through the moonlight by lasting fear! Man, the eternal One-Inventor, bleeds in performance on angry scales! Existence: A recurring, flawless mistake that can be made many times?
 
And who makes more, more harmful mistakes ?! No one can protect you! Is that why I opened the borders of my palms ?! - Out there now knocking on closed-door societies you want to seek refuge! "Rings of the year on me and angelic shell-hahota!" - Vigilance over commonplace issues; desert sand has been thirsty forever! We call Death to ourselves in different forms every day; a proud and delicate game that can eat even raw meat and is constantly swallowing!
 
Only the sure, calculated End who doesn't run away from it can understand! "Time always vomits in its own fright - that's why I may be scared every day of the ghosts of my selfish shadow!

Unexpected landscapes, unknown uncertain possibilities opened up before us: We were hoping then that we would dream ourselves! If I doubted it, I dared to believe that with you I was in a mood and mood with ascending and sinking relaxed freedom, like a submarine and a submarine that appears on the surface at any time!
You’re becoming more and more vulnerable, you’re getting weaker: You don’t know what to do, nor how? You are still secretly hoping - with a certain consciousness - that the gift rainbow of happiness may banish your gloomy clouds into starless loneliness: S You can cherish an priceless human star between your two arms!

Dodge, stagnant hesitation, heavily woven, complimented fever, humiliated adventure: Youthful Ankle: Fate Anyway One: The shackles of your lost consciousness are rarely about yourself if you can shake them off! You thought — it was true that you would untangle the cross-knots of your being with your armor-smile, your unshakable confidence, like ******* Gordian knots. The hammering and pulsating effervescence of unexpected heartbeats opened before us, and your only fate-error is only

it could have been: Didn’t you know what would be more appropriate for you: determination or a resigned escape from the towering walls of your problems? “They were pushed and tossed towards me like a growing, bursting lava flow. I had to, but I really needed the disappointed embarrassment and the blushing beauty to do next to you!



From the web of my memory — no matter how careful I keep the brush from falling out — as a great Sisyphus, I struggle with the rocks of unchanging vanity!

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!

I wanted to lie on your lap, lowering my orphaned little boy's head. This is how I dreamed of heaven, a possible fulfillment! Between the glories of the harmony found, it is a barrier and a rope to immerse yourself in the darkness of your beetle-eyes at night, and to feel: it is not my life that I need you! The delicate thread of your beautifully curved veined hair would encircle you, not suffocatingly, but all over gently, even with rampant amber, and from this World you would be taught a lesson of courageous uplifting and holding, if everything seems to collapse!


The dreamy imagination was now deceived, lying and annulled at the same time - I wanted to face the Kharübdisz throat of wave depths; wolf-eyed with passing, but only if you squeeze my hand out of full strength. It would have promised us twilight by blowing rainbows, and while celestial volcanic eruptions

we looked, the earthly miracle, the infinite in each other then we found forever! I would have kept silent with my stethoscope elephant ears, your tiny bell-heart, what unknown messages it sings to me. I would have greeted you who thought you were merrily and merrily lost when your heart was broken again, a tragic loss!

That's how I would have stayed with you, a humble guest, a shipwrecked pathetic of worn-out moral values, - now resting in your non-redeeming Madonna lap. My orphaned, shaky soul cannot be relieved by the peaceful captivity of my pillows. I peek around the corner of my room, and if they ask: Why haven't I married and committed myself? I reply, “My deer-eyed gaze holds me in immortal abundance, in handcuffed captivity, among the pathetic shackles of eternal exile, that I have let go of the Happiness Found lightly, I have let it go!

A tiny home of a walnut shell that shines in your eyes. Calm in your arms and happily, I would have driven my stray head to sleep - you kept every moment of miracles, magic between your two swan hands like the sparks of the Universe! you dared to dream of immortal fulfillment - while I was held captive by the shackles of cowardice: you could not let me go! You raised your lily head toward me. Your gaze thirsted for goodness, honesty, as the only forgivable

excuse me before lies! The magic of your face, the self-sacrificing will, was beyond everything I could perceive, discover! You became a miserable pain that lingered in yourself, and you asked yourself every day: How long? How many earthly minutes can I tolerate people's envious spit,

swear words to hated wickedness? You were a redemption that extends its angel wings to escape to the only recesses in the world! Even in self-sacrifice, you have always been an encouragement - a healing hope that stars in times of need!

Underneath your feet, the forest of green music, autumn avar, covered in velvet flames, has sprung up! You came and went, the tiny-sweeping worries of existence pushed your fragile shoulders deeper and deeper into a happy pregnancy: Human embers emotions, the romantic charm of kisses, the superstitious music of lips flew around you!

The radiance of heavenly grace has drawn you into your untouchable circles like a magnet! - Where did you go? You live in your tiny garden house, you have now exchanged the compliments of the dreams of our dreams into a feminine virtue, behind which is still your little girly fang! But your indestructible memory is still indelible digesting and fluttering in the labyrinths of my head: And I don't know how you feel or do you feel at all

Requiem for immortality
  
    
  
He could no longer know anything that he would fall into Nothing with a kiss-praise, as the last confession in which cramps trickle into the impossible - unbearable volcanic eruption, cosmic collision of spheres, whirlwind of eye wars

Your Archangel has not faithfully torn your blood-twilight lips to the tune of balmy romances - And he couldn't know anything from you that his kiss would comfort him! But there was a short circuit, the connection that thought immortal connected two wandering shipwrecks, maybe it was finally broken!

- The wild and silky-green torn hills of the ancient Celtic ridges could not bring you peace either, because you could not know the answers, in the darkening pond of your eyes, cynical sparks had not bounced for a long time, you yourself are a childish dream image, you are a junk prisoner of our toy!

In the corridor of my soul, you can no longer greet with a grin, you are determined that the germ of your existence could not be adopted fertilized by the earth! - You just wouldn't have left me forever! How I could have felt beneath your throbbing body landscapes bubbling, bubbling, and feathering flirtatious bubbles in your oxygen carrying molecules!

Now done: The siege ring, which has besieged a knocking heart so far and is now tightening its throat, stretches it out: It is forced to swallow a deadly dumpling curse while the dehumanization gorillas are trampled on!

In my wavering, active forehead, I now struggle with grunts; I cultivate a culture of willful, unshakable faith, while the fearful world outside would be crushed by my winged voices. The secret acne of the elements can be heard all the way to the soul's visceral depth. In the superstitious moments of the Universe, only we can be vigilant enough to save ourselves from the hell that is present.

The secret ascetic-arbitrary teaches selfishness. It is the camouflage, forced creation, work to get the most out of it and by all means. My being is dipped in the mirrors of my wounded soul, which both reverse the true sincerity of their faces. The paralyzed, hibernating-evil words burn and curse at the same time - pushing me into the depths of my defenses every day. It is necessary for me to get to know myself better if I want to move forward.

The dream, desperate for fear, always disrupts my attempts after my deep-fried failures. In my heart fluttering like a purple chalice, delirious anger and melancholy, vengeful resistance is deliberately ignited: in every case, unusual, insidious eyelash fluttering reveals that the lady's eyes are fooled. With a clenched soul, I am still vulnerable in the Infinite Time.

And I still hope that my vulnerable heart is thrown to someone on the last day. "Immersed in a squeezed, slippery silence that sticks to me as a balm in a metaphysical, resilient state, I must surely find the redemptive glances of virgins who cherish secrets and loves!"

Killing silence, incomprehensible suffocation, dense crowds! He puts his mind to the ground, hopefully Estonian, the sluggish gang. - Eyes: Like empty craters, they yawn, offering melancholy answers. They can show less the lights of gassed, ragged roads and common sense in the brain, they can only indicate Heureka's solutions less often!

The heart is just a pointlessly pounding pump going up and down! The tamed boredom also yawns. He opens his horrible, abandoned mouth, and spikes injure my soul with bouncing whips! Somewhere even into the night, a shoreless squirming one-voice screamed. The dried tree leaves hissed under my feet. Yet they would wish for the ordinary miracle that had won a heartbreak in their hearts: A glow of glass as a stranded, shoreless sacrifice to save us from the filth of cheap, earthly hell!

The hall thrones of classrooms have been touched by my feet, almost always! The final last word of those sentenced to death could not have been mine either! The heart was always expanding, deepening and widening into a melted crater cavity, then the intellect saw there all the vile opposites that were still tense in the souls of the people!

I carried with me the alienation of outsiders - because it was the Order: Who defended the unappealable and personalized truth of Damocles over it. We fell into a Kharübdisz trap where snarling monsters tore our university flesh, our armored humanity, every day.

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!

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!

Missing the kiss that you often deserve! Just "Knock it off, right now about me" - just a swearing in my eyes that I can only be *******, perfect in love, only "shut up", and the other cheap melodies, even though I wouldn't have heard pus -fraters ’caressing anthems, then ******* fists would not have exploded on my face with their striking judgment!

I just disappeared from the World vulnerable, captured my three-hill ridges, and listened to explain what bumpy rocks, eternal green mosses could say in their million-year-old immorality? "Whatever I wanted, the grace of the Heart just didn't come!" And now it's been almost twenty years since I stepped into the realm of palpable pain! I can't be free in my unfolded mood, in my truncated temper, and now the consciousness of companionship has haunted me!

"The minutes were just fine, on tiptoe." The Desert enters four walls, and the sun threatens to scorch the Sahara killer if it becomes summer. I would hurry after unrepeatable eternal minutes: Yes! When even my mother was balanced and happier, today she is just a hard-working, hard-working woman.

Stomach-turning frost crawled into my throat with his injured ice-blade! My sprouting words have long since been lost: There can be and perhaps cannot be, who can be a crying voice in the night! I am gathering an offensive and squeaky silence, my soundtrack stretches like a ready-to-shoot, stretched bow on guard: My eyes are guarding talkative stars, while you are in tears all at once!

You used to be a fairy in a white apron: charming and strong - you extended your arms of hope over the sufferers and victims, and you flew barefoot even in cold crypt shops: on the cornerstones of patinated universities! Oh, my angel! You remember? Your tiny soul trembled like a lily petal swallowed by a thorn, and your ever-increasing and faster pace hammered your immortal heart pounding

a chirping, caressing word, “Honey! Honey!" "During the day, the consuming fire flared in your eyes, and when the dream drifted on your blessed head to promote your harmony," you stretched out your graceful, reed-slender limbs like a cat when it rubs and purrs to win your wish!

Your laughter was an ambrotic universe to me. You have faithfully and faithfully restrained your uncontrolled Pegasus, and you have sat on the ******* - the majestic Artemis body of Amazon. I listened to the delicate eroticism of your lips as you sweetened your melancholy mood with chocolates as a modest request, and maybe you couldn't and didn't know

you may have guessed that I had long ago set your heart on the marble wall of my heart, and my feelings for you were shattered. “You used to be a fairy in a white apron — and now the fulfillment of love is conceived in your body; armies of tiny toddler legs greet you when you get home: you are still gentle and strong and you protect others, you are afraid to defend!

Think about it: I did not mean my complimenting words to destructive forgetfulness, but that your mischievous mischief may not be lost forever: once you wake up and visit, your emotional hermit will greet you with the death of humility, and if you fall asleep: Angels keep your dread dreaded!

What years are coming to us? What kind of person - planned deeds, actions? We hang our standing on the burnt-out altars of our affairs, and in the way of traitorous subjects we betray our still humane, revived Morals. At the gates of our souls, the eternal lanterns of conscience continue to rumble - they demand rights and privileges: Between prejudices and stereotypes

we close our friends and acquaintances: A recognizable personality that could have been loved and respected precisely because it is Vulnerable! - Here, even interest is charged to the innocent - our clinging, irresponsible and irresponsible everyday lives damage our positions, to fulfill our abilities: To unknown human heads,

we are humiliated into skeletal skulls - if we wolf-eyed in the loneliness of mirrors in our bathroom! There will still be plenty of gambling games! You can only wander hesitantly and uncertainly on stumbling stalks - you can't do anything else: People are afraid to live, to live with content for happiness to be fulfilled

he prepared himself as a whole, because their hearts had burned out too many times, he had been set on fire and disappointed - and he who cherished dreadful dreams himself sooner or later became disillusioned: his utopia could be fed, he could be bribed foolishly! - Bitter rust-chain wrinkles on the outside digest, while the flame of self-knowledge burns with forgiving grace inside: It is now poisoning itself, even polluting itself.

what more years will it take to multiply, to crumble again that Man; most valuable, forgivable speck of faith believe: You can do it! - although the World responds with barrier raises, downsizing? - Are you considering suicidal thoughts of your nervous explosions?

Will that make it better? You permanently disconnect yourself from the infinite cycle - it does not cease
the immortal world burning of your loved ones has tempted you several times in your days

Perhaps you have not yet thought about how much it weighs on your chest when you feel how and how the secret of your arbitrary weight changes before an imaginary tribunal. The wandering, opaque mass of yeses attracts you at the same time, but also weighs you down; the conscious saying no would be much more tempting. Because this current gutted, disemboweled Age, in which the individual as a creative individual has largely ceased to exist, is eating away your self-confidence to the core, with a wrinkled smile on a scattered corner of the mouth, because - as is well known - every defeat leads to misery, but never supports its victims.

The lack of the solid Nirvana-nothing would rather sweep away the rustling, melancholy limbs of Existence into nothingness; more than a million octopus claws of futility are grasping at you. Because the unknown, difficult-to-reconcile equations of emotions should be sorted out and solved, the power of calls and friendly gestures attracts even the naive-minded, because it comes from above downwards, the emptiness nicknamed permanent hangs all the way to the depths of the soul's cave.

The worst thing is that it is known: everything and everyone is overtaken from behind by the past, then by memory, until finally there may be no one and nothing left to which one once truly attached. And like a loose stone throw, the course of things falls a little every second like a whirling wedding of petals. - A sickening, nervous battle, a vow is heard: the smoldering-headed arrow of the Universe is questioning itself. As grace, mercy, redemption, it would cut through the harmony-silence in vain, like a double-edged sword that can only manipulate and manipulate with the selfish, greedy will from which it was taken.

My friend, you better realize: if you want real gems, just look into the superstitious eyes of your Beloved, shining like real pearls, to find the eternal one-answers in the Morse code of immortal love and the Universe. Striding on the traces of Being, defying many millions of obstacles - perhaps -, only the two of you are a unified whole, because you constantly need to gain strength in confidence and blind luck-hope that wants to be renewed.

Your little people, ordinary things are not as clear as you think; some sufficiently clumsy, gibberish word-plurality has been welded together from the clumsy coordinates of repetitive, boringly repeated sets of ideas; why can't the endless night shift combined with reasoning lead anywhere?! - It seems that our constantly busy mind is already grinding away at the often uncontrollable fateful events without them. Why do you always feel that thinking rationally and logically is just vain self-deception?!

Losing your patience, giving up your ant-like diligence in a manipulable and bargain-bound way, you can increasingly recognize yourself in the series of superficial, slimy exhibitionist jokes that the infected tabloid media throws at you with understanding patience every second.

My friend! Unfortunately, be careful! We have become damaged, amputated savages, and only half-human wrecks, who have been deceived a lot, and I believe have been led astray in their gullibility. Your vulnerable heart can no longer ache only in a separate purple petal-shell, if you ask it nicely not to bleed in its aching pain. - The romantic, happier idyll, the illusion-appearance, has become a disguised fugitive. Bosch could not have painted it as a more inspired hellish, underworldly vision!

As a bat swarm, with a final, coughing cough, human empathy will disappear from this vicious world. Because a strong enemy always and lawfully suppresses the weak. Cracking, apocalyptic sorrows dissolve and bind: they put secret roots where they are not needed, because self-confidence would be the master.

The primordial certainty of our dull, brain-washed senses is sweet. There is always a broken wing whispering in the brazen obsession of the word-karate left behind words. We'll put up with curdled wounds dotted with bullet coats to rush the secret of human morality, the presence of a moral soul - the common thing: We are human and not wild!

Bulls wounded in the midnight lights dance with a steaming, alcohol-bold, and will not be able to think clearly about their inviting instincts of rampage: "Are they going to be completely out of themselves?" - Our dreaded consciousness is drawing everything sharp. The secret duel camp of early cryers and late switchers is increasingly pushing its boundaries.

Idiots trapped in militant blocks, profitable profit-seekers preaching to fatty public goods, but preaching primarily for themselves; who rolls up his rolled glass beads for the cudar-obsessed future ?! The historical mare of the brainwashed collective has long since burst.
A deliberate backdrop was led by a large congregation of puppeteers. There are also conceptual troubles for unsupervised individuals who simply build something for themselves on a conscious mind.

Through the stomping lady's gibberish, she's fondled as a celebratory cockade by the torn, ***** **-nikhai.
Latino James Bond look-alikes and Fame Fatales have their grip on their fame. In the cheap places of our hearts, the black-star prison has long since been pierced by the crying word!

Because you fall, you fall, and even if you want the sure impossible - you can't cling to it: Swan hands, no grace-sharing gazes, no voluntarily offered, helpful intentions! You are demonstrably trembling and shaking like a castle on a weak pedestal: Your destiny depends on a thin hair, over the Kharübdis gorge, while balancing your options with an untalented rope dance!

See! Your destiny is on the immortality of fallen people and they fall - do they recognize the necessary will, or are they left free to fall for a while? You are already experiencing the depth on your own skin, while the Disappointment of Nothing threatens to mediate! - And it would be good to find a shelter among the embracing arms, so that you believe yourself:

You can't be alone! - Your heart responds to your fears with the ringing bells of desperate supplications. You would try to extinguish the flames of your doubt with your wooden stick confidence! The end-length of everyday life has no soul-killing eternity, as both praised and stigmatized

with your ******, lower need for life, you are still tolerating, while in the place of your conscience, a timer counts more and more resolutely, killer-vehemently! As a denied prodigal, downtrodden angel, you go mad on the culverts of streets: you can't decide — you don't even know the answers to the risks you consider: Should I cross the puddles of puddles or fall straight into the middle of bribery? -

The ever-restless intention of your blood drops into your ear more and more pulsatingly. And the unbelieving grievance roars in the midst of the judge: Why do we have to choose the whirlwind of the depths, even if the unarmed embraces, embraces him as a mercy of compassion ?!

No matter how much he tried to free himself, - he rather tolerated his slavery, he did not stand it, he did not even beat himself up with superior, scheming powers for it - perhaps he really does not want to be freed for good; he will be a shackled slave for his entire life. No matter how much he wanted to be free, the coronary veins wrapped around his sick, yet sensitive, beating heart like a murderous hog, no matter how much he tried to free himself; the paramedic was repeatedly delayed for thirty quarrelsome minutes.

No matter how much he tried to free himself, his One-Beloved preferred the diminishing goods of materialism; the temporary luxury lifestyle - no matter how much he tried to cooperate with logically constructed reasons - this ragged life was too much for a true Angelic miracle. In vain he tried to free himself from the underworld depths of placenta pits, he felt and knew: something was not and could not be right in this big World, where the calculating strong always crushes the weak, stricken with defenseless orphanhood.

In vain he tried to free himself from the majestic, prestigious university, because of his excessive education and humanistic attitude, he was advised against it, just so that he would not have to get a diploma cuma sum laude. In vain he tried to get a job in the painful interviews that increased hemorrhoidal spasms, he could hardly get a paid job.

No matter how much he tried to free himself with human-smelling, melodious handshakes and convincing promises, he was immediately ******* in a knot, like the convicts suffering from innocence, no matter how much he tried to finally escape this unfair, vile, compromising earthly existence, the secret Morse echo effect symbolizing the connection was forever cut off halfway between the railway tracks!