They will soon leave - as will my acquaintances, My Years! Bitter memories as iris moments may be resurrected once and for all, if I will: If you are not surrounded by amber tendrils, Nothing as conscious indifference and boredom! I will warp with broken and cracked country road ditches if I have to look in the mirror in honor.

I did not become an winning strategist or warlord in either Adonis or the first camp! I was able to be satisfied with the cheap smell of potato vegetables and brine: "You swallow a lot anyway!" The others barked at me with their curses! "And maybe in my death, maybe I can only be a naked snail who dared to try in any way to

he could not just catch the Atlantic shores of immortal love. And if my blood seeps through the caverns of my perforated heart many times, where was the self-help, blessed face laughing at all the misery and waving? "Are my eyes or just my will tired of searching?" Mapping the Real? - I don't know myself! I can't compromise with bus pass dictatorships right now! Whose money and faith in the alleys of years of trying few people are now enough for a single line, if it gets a little better and maybe even smiles, the Sun can travel kilometers around with its youthful feet,

if you want, your health can still do it! I have no desire for the raging raging of worlds: I long for the uninhabited islands of Peace! The poorer are devoured daily by life, its cynical asphalt snout absorbing the sparks of Existence — what a light-hearted thought it was to release the life-giving and promising tingling around your porcelain fingers that might have guaranteed the earthly happiness of the two of us.