In my imagination, a strange dream-vision is growing up, what will I be like in a hurry, thirty years later? Hit, worn, broken, vile kit deceived not only the deceiver, the human soul but the ancestral elements of nature: formable matter. Even then, I will watch from my small, rectangular room that the new world order, and in it Man as a prodigal animal, digests and devours himself!

My brain’s network with its secret viruses will almost be attacked by Alzheimer’s while warning me of death together. Yet the consciousness of death does not lurk in me with its snarling hyena nails: His emigration of loneliness is already sharpening his sword of misfortune far above my head!

"I have nothing to fear from death, my son!" - say competent experts. "It's just time to decipher, our last countdown to what we threw here!" "And maybe if I could get someone to be with me, a caring family, I could have been happy for seconds, and then blessedly caring."
I break hearts incomprehensible because I cannot control the internal commandments of my organization!

I could get treasures and collect the lost, plowed tears in my handkerchief. And like rubber sugar, I secretly and selfishly hid it! In my perforated heart, I sought the content of the Universe; building foundations on the ruins of Being!

The ruthless organization will crush, I will be forced to end the unfinished battle too! And eventually they are emptied and buried as shipwrecks in landless ashes and bone cemeteries. Garbage-free waste. I only fall for pain and suffering for mercy because I struggle with cowardice.