Now I am trying a lot to move silently to the edge of Life. Still looking at myself, a dark crater of zealous lightlessness still reigns out there! I should become asless as a pill, even the tears in tired and empty eye sockets, and to disappear into the infinite Nothing, to be lost, like a primordial vacuum struck by shortness of breath, soundless, nestless!

It would be time to grow up the desperate child in me as an adult - although, perhaps it is better to look at the now cataclysmic, overcomplicated world with astonished and startled eyes: "It's that **** snowfall again: If someone wants a relentless leg fracture in a tasteful little plaster coffin, just wear it!"

Porridge-ice, mirror, and armor-frost are all going more and more, falling big, pounding, humiliating the human body, while looking silently at the grinning miserable: The Winter who treated him like that and mocked him! And in such a seemingly relative, no-man's-land harsh time, the selfish swamp of my self-pity spreads like the plague!

It is better to tame ourselves into cocoon puppets by measuring the cold below freezing, we are packing ourselves up and barricading ourselves! Man is now shrinking himself: Nothing else can exist for him but the Inner Sounds, and the tiny, minute murmur of heartbeats - their messages still whispering while Heaven is spinning endlessly frozen crystal flowers!