Like pushed blinds, fog-covered mornings began to sway, and old mountain-aggastians released - let go - the newborn time of day. Eures' beard can't wait to knock down its victims with the sharp passwords of hidden assassins, and then the given Time, even the Island, may seem insurmountable, and the wounded sky splits the slices of oranges and the petals of roses, examining ridge!

Now you might even guess yourself, you know; you still listen to your thoughtful and fast-pulsating heartbeat: There is peace, and it would take anything to stay in your sweetheart's cherished, caring caring arms — if you could, the rays of the sun would pierce your forehead several times in succession with sharp scalpel-swords.

The sly and compromising World seeps through my retina from slowly fading lumps of mist: Maybe I am more of myself — believe in the name of an immortal universe instinct, exposed to the flirtations of dreams and sold myself? Perhaps! There is now an unbreakable wall between me and the world, tense, but since when! We whistleblowers stand on a sunken, shaky stage: the offended ghosts of existence!

The perpetual fugitive, Self-centered inner stream seeks refuge, and cities are shaken by the junk swear word recorded as a cordiva. The wounded lips of seven-mile-minute people would yell, gagging out of themselves the unborn Order: The gamble of cheap Johns, in which the loser himself is the biggest slap in the face, falling on his face - and has long since disappeared in human beetle eyes

joking, rocking, halo-stars, comets who once knew and knew: The vow of the inalienable Oath of allegiance would have been tied to the earth on which we were born