He squeezed himself out there into our maze. The humble, small-style toys of logic believed to be an invincible, even smaller or larger situations, are filled with a filth of the present time, which can no longer be improved. We feel infallible, and we know that we often need to go through the impassable, girbe-gurba roads, even if we can hardly change it.

The silent, accomplice, start -up - can still come in handy. Just the refreshing, refreshing tingling of the found soul harmony, which can only be offered by the Savior Universe -if you like -as a gift. In the russians of the Justitia weighs, we can trust more and more rarely, as well as in our handshake, spicl-like friends.

Halfway between the falls and the falls, we are all walking over a half-or two millimeters of rope dancers in just one or two millimeters; For a long time, the redeeming moments of bean, cherishing caress, ready -to -call consolations seem like an unattainable distance ...

Stigma stamps were now struck on adults on adult, cared, dismantled faces, which still had a curious playfulness of eternal children. Lame anger, disgrace, seems to be more and more fashionable and stays in fashion. - We dip our clown image in the flour powder of the weekdays, but we no longer dare, nor do we want to laugh with ourselves.

Once we will just look back at us mirrors from the bottom of the curve-groteszk, an unknown torso face, and then the judgment of the crowd sakes: how and how we got here?!

We crouched together, halfway between the jaws of the present and future Janus, and no matter how much we decide where we have no idea where we go. There are tremendous prison chains of existence hanging into raba-winged souls. In the forgotten, confidential handshakes, the secret apocrypes of the eyes, the transgression of the universe, which is a bit bordered by the immortal tingling, which is already unnoticed there is something strange; The eyes are more like dripping stars.

In any case, the soul has a new bone bridge smell, massive silence, and it is not yet aware-at least for the time being-whether we have been a fashion beast on the altars of our strained everyday life, or just a casual Yorick-mood?! "Because suddenly, the order and system of intent-by-intentioned order and system run, while the mass army of conscious madnesses often dart."

It is customary to guide silent wildlife on halves to know their own place in the world, which may seem, which may seem, becoming more shallow, superficial, and small. - Axis, medium, or if you like balance can be the writing, text, books. Rather, rather than some self-sufficient, deliberately exhibitionist celebrity-idiot.

Because Hübris, Sanda Döjf, pumps into a sticky small camp of the fake, dizzy, and rogues, which the simpler average does not even know if he dares to believe anyone even.

The stunning, mushroom-smelling mole trick now, all of them, are all galatically, as the clean balance and the ability to reconcile the permanent reconciliation are increasingly insensitive. Embodied ideas, such as exaggerated phalanster theories, are involuntarily grouped in wild ideas that are their own grotesque cartoon.

The more real, real meaning of being is shown in the same way; More and more people are chewing on obsolete roots, gillys, beetles, as even the excise tax on durable everyday food prices has risen well, and this is not a joke in the eyes of many. The roots of the digital neo-avantgarde network are rocking their victims, Y and Z-generation members, who have been involuntarily sniffed by the coach profession.

It was as if arrowheads were drilled around the stigma-level stamped-souls, and at a accelerated pace, the human empathetic and tolerant emotions were purely purulent, which could have been good to make lasting compromises. - Long bees stick to that particular sticky fly paper - true useless - because everything can be swimming who has trust relationships and enough money.

Why is the best feeling nowadays the restrained, but lasting pity that is actually sniffed when they are going to wicked and teased?! -The mass-man Darido tumultus also became a concert hall, and the order was still believed to be an only person, but he could hardly know.

In the furrows of the foreheads, unexpected problems and troubles are now settled; The hopes that were believed to be missed would still be so good to get back from the whirlwind of the sea. The dark rags of the overwhelmed nights, like the tangled amber, unexpectedly wrap the body and soul's complex instinct molecules, which are absorbed and can be integrated into the cells of the cells.

In the midst of increasingly difficult overtime on weekdays, they ventilate their tasteful, swearing sieves from motorists when they are late or are sitting in the rush of traffic jams.

In our world -wide anxiety, why can we feel that everything and everyone is for sale, bribed, or just emotions swap and falsify at the same time?! Human-wreckage offspring, even inverted roots, sprinkled or even scapied from wet drained lands-there is no new blood vessel length, in which man himself can only be transit.

Nowadays, it is not good to be a lot of slit, after all, puzzles guarding secrets can be ashamed of the universe or love-believing love with enigma-level Morse signs; Why do you have to drag on a rope like the vulnerable stray souls with the delicious diva ladies, consuming angels?! Soaked eyelashes are dripping like dark, tattooed ditches, while confetti-racks sprinkle a small bargain.

Between artistically composed gorgo heads and centaurs, they can look less and less in the way of humans; It is unbearable, not-deserved, useless, superficial applause for the ugly, fornica!

Peace pigeons Believe me are rarely flying; On their broken wings, burning storm clouds gather. They can't even strain in the long curve of the rainbow, because the silence was destroyed down there. In all cases, proportions and shadows lie exchanged, with no prices for forgetting steps, small -style reality of petty lads. The semi-opening tulip also seems to be legally closed by a rustling wind.

Snow-white walls would still be good to cover-of course, just as it can-he set up romantic evenings, and the superfluous excess of the soul could no longer be enough. In the hell of time, our deeds' footprints are abandoned. The instinctive lovers who want to shrink into embryos, which would be good to cherish it a bit.

Playful naked waxfaaces are fateful to us, and often we don't even know what to do with them. Peace pigeons are still ****** on our heads because they can't even start with the phrases.

In the scarce passages of increasingly drained doors, we pull the tattooed stubborn revolutions of our face, while our nodding, staring grotesque-distorted mirror images are trying to answer questions and answers.

As the yellowed midnight moon is smiling at us, the yellowed midnight moon is smiling at us. However, it would still be good to travel to the smaller or larger buzzing of the goal-free-free-free-free-free-free-free-free-bun, even before they finally decide to get out or give up.

Our memories raise sifus weights because they would have to testify; The heads of our stinging figures were scattered with sand. The rude hopes believed to be frozen are relocated, while the germs of common sense fold the folds of the forehead!

Unnoticed kitsch-suspicious movements manipulate, distort, and surround their unprotected victims; It is as if they could not swam the fraud and the multiplied collapse themselves, because only the sincerity of souls is the only viable path. The moment is no longer divisible, as well -thought -out lies leave molds in the pores of cells.

The tamed faith of pipes often bleeds on a nippy lips if they cannot feel the amber laundry of the righteous universe; Hammer strokes of breaks and suspicion remain with people, if you want it or not, because it becomes part of it. It would be so good to bandage the broken wings of iron angels, not to wait in exchange for financial benefits.

The lashes are extended, and in the shade of the man, the man's tanned, wake -up coffee is still staring; His chronic mornings are delighted, thirsty, as if he were no longer drunk, but it was sobering the origins of instincts. Life often rings us unexpectedly, like a set alarm clock that goes around again and again.

The decades have come back and forth into the haunting periods of unemployed childhood, when everything could seem much more predictable and maybe simpler. Sometimes only truth can examine the holy sins of the eternal moments broken. It would be good to leave the camp of the fixed liar believing once and for all!

It is increasingly limping or shattering, Mihasna's Perpatvar, Vocabulary preaching is an obsco of the long -brainwashed thoughts. Because almost everyone already knows, or at least guessing that chess steps - sure, sure - should be harmed with a higher power, and do not press unnoticed the certainly prepared, symbolic red button that can deliver a giant mushroom cloud.

They put on the infinite, illusion sheet of lies, if necessary, if not, as if the human soul would have been more ancillary loss or a commodity to its waist; There are plenty of people who may even have a weedwriting in fruit flavors with a calm heart, as it serves their wise interests. It is as if they get used to it in the cells to be angry with themselves in the cells, not just the world that has become a place.

Because all depths, falls, are also a mouse hole in itself, from where it is not possible in the spiral labyrinth circles, as they deliberately removed the clamp-opening, redeeming keys to existence. Rather, everyone is deliberately nesting in the tuna indifference and forgotten behind their fence, where the silence has long been filled with dirt. Temporary immobility, like some silent betrayal, enters the pores of the mucus skin unnoticed.

As in confused water, the sludge sits down in the heart and soul of man now well a memory, past, and present; What the other is interested in the exibitionist embryo surface, when it does, scraps its own selfish-mushy profit-making every day. Wave-broken, crushed torso images clings to the fragments of those who have not yet been forgotten and may not really be able to recreate or re-create a broken situation, a gesture of gestures, the dance of manipulative pupils that can be seen on waxy faces.

He sits with a curved soul, tame, and obese the hesitant indifference, if there is none, no longer, which would actually be rebellious. Soft, snow-white babies rumble roller drums and pikes to see if someone else hears. Why, how can a man be only a spinning sacrifice for this current nonsense, vulnerable age?!

Distorted sermon speeches proclaim sufficiently rotting ideas, which, if no one cares, lightly pimple and wash the brain's thoughtful creative tissue. The thought - feared - can hardly scream. Because perhaps a long time in man has been accumulated in every reason to be disgusted and nailed to the stupid, humble wickedness.

For sure, what is certain, it would be good to understand what is certain; Man is running deeper, even in the spiral of refugees, if you think you want to finally understand yourself for a lifetime. Every lap will run around, maybe you can come back to you once!

With a naive, almost smiling, faithful faith, I did not know for a long time that the world was saturated with blood, dirt, filth. Wherever I look, I look like a crowd of human-mass dariders, like so many flat-off worms traveling in flat-off, who would be able to ride each other, if they could do it. The only question is who is better off with the ins and outs of bribe, manipulation, who has enough dare to dream and step forward with a great big ostrich steps?!

I feel like pulling towards the vortex of depths every day, pulling down the many millions of scrambles and petty intrusion of everyday life; Because everyone wants to get ahead of the rank, but in love, just like the superficial, exibimentist words of the pseudo-pads, just as just the ladder, but in love.

This currently disappointing, fat flattening in this current world is a bile mixed with nausea towards my throat, and if I need to, if I need it, only my own sins, pathetic childish clown shots, if they can count on anything.

I deliberately left the company of dogmas that preach, and I deliberately left the moles of ivory towers, but I don't have to listen to so many incomprehensible, folly rice texts about the promises of the uncertain future.

It is not possible to slow down the rarely stolen time to become a holy shelter of instantaneous rich words, just like for minutes; Because it can be delayed for decades, while "some" continue to bury the old-fashioned cannibal time!

It would be good just to have a child-faith, even in a playful time in the Garden of Timelessness, just a little bit to understand a little to understand the absolute references of the Kitin soul. Or maybe it would be better for Robinson's shipwreck to survive forever, who would rather escape the country of dreams because he dreads the wolf trap of reality?!

It would be good to drop every duty jacket once and for all; The thirty-six-hour verb-robot burden, which not only carries a harsh body of the body, carrying lead-in-the-scrubs, but also an office public official is at least as fed up with the small campaigns of constant chopping. The slightly confusing life drive, which has been closed in lines, is extinguished by the misery of everyday life.

The equalized voltage contradictions will wake up, then tense to each other, even under a careless moment or a lost sigh-era: Is it worth it?! Only the next transient time can only be done. - The tree of wisdom, free thoughts, as well as other insignificant so -called. Freedoms no longer grow by themselves, because "some" first sprinkled the land of common sense and intellect with salt and later acidic acids, which made almost everyone at the time of the brain.

It would often be better to have a total disappointment, because then the wise man would no longer be able to trust his mere coincidence to the otherwise uncertain fate or the forces of invisible doom.