Perhaps it was all the same: the predictable certainty of the steps, like the aged footprints of old loves, which the ocean once drew in the sand. The past shattered shards of glass into smithereens. The weighty mass of scoldings, curse words, and nasty words can no longer be satisfaction or a legitimate retaliatory strike towards the sure redemptive forgiveness; because deep down in the confused, wounded Soul, the flower *** is already rattling into tiny pieces again, and there is no more worldly, massive glue that could fit more than a million pieces together.

Well, this is how Everything is formed; the cherishing, caressing voice of the Beloved no longer calls out from the echoing silence. Silence with an intermittent rhythm walks its rhythmless tightrope dances, because the kettle drum rhythm of the waning waves of the present also beats in the deaf ears. Why is it that every moment believed to be eternal has an unpredictable end and is hyperactive and restless?!

- The ever-drifting event of Nirvana-nothing seems to culminate crystal clear in the present minutes. The wolf-howl is accumulating in the manner of mini-atomic bombs ready to explode in the throats of screaming, ready-to-climb, ready-to-dive wolves. The clustered fear stretches to the shoulders, just like the Cassandra-scented ominousness.

Many-stringed screams hang, then ripen with a luscious, juicy pleasure, like a bunch or two of nectar-rich grapes. The massive-solid prison walls surrounding a person are increasingly hopeless, there is absolutely no escape from them.

Above our heads, nuclear mushroom clouds, - perhaps - tiny missiles are circling instead of clouds. The empty, indifferent footprints of promises have long since disintegrated. Perhaps everything and everyone is beginning to find their own truth simply by getting tired or simply giving up on the possibilities that are running out. The petty tumbles of doubts and failures gradually become whole; they are worn out by the millstone of Being, which grinds and clicks at the same time and finally grinds.

Good Samaritans are not certain to arrive in the pre-determined Times; anything can happen to those who ask for mercy or are robbed, just as anything can happen to those who are already there, who are always taking advantage of others. Yet everything works badly if neither sin, nor filth, nor bedbugs can touch them, since all that is needed is a small, necessary, foreseen detour to ensure that the path of development, believed to be stubborn, is still secured. The other day, we are already convulsing in more and more Gordian knots; we are wasting half days in traffic jams sniffing out mass-collision accidents, when and where?

And while even surface transport does not really want to move under a smoke - we are forced to swallow the mole-like silence of the underground metro tunnels, tolerating it, because we are constantly missing deadlines. The wings of the angel of the happy joys that can be found have been cut off by someone; a bleeding stump rises and while a fierce suspicion creeps behind us, we will all gradually run out of time in the post-history era. - It became increasingly difficult for bleating sheep to get used to the tolerated sheepishness!

The pondering brain is almost getting more and more tired as it tries to interpret and spell out the instinct-hieroglyphs engraved on the forehead; the total brainwashed chaos in which one has to exist has long been making one stupid and miserable. On the petty secret of Being - he fears - perhaps even then one cannot loosen either padlock or lock. The network of cells and molecules hides continuing secrets.

Where will the final accounting dreams sink to, which should have been said sooner or later?! Big worms in turned-out Gogol cloaks secretly devour small worms; like a sponge, a person is soaked so quickly and effectively by a concluded, petty bargain, a broken agreement, because - unfortunately - the unfriendly thorn is still more tenacious than a violet, halfway between thorns, it is not only the kitchen garden, where even the youth tasted honey nectar in the past, but even now it is deliberately shackled by superior powers.

Every person is locked to his fate, because nowhere can he find a universal key to open the shackles that could finally open its eternal seven-padlock lock; the unworthy, lazy calvary of a small person hangs, to which no one responds. - Even apparent, deceptive loyalty breaks a huge catafalque, if the person for whom it was always intended cannot be sure of his feelings.

One should believe that perhaps the final destination is still waiting for one, only its apparent resting places fall too far away; like a lost, homeless sparrow, like a kind of strange compass, some acquaintances or friends might still accompany one. It would be nice to cross the Glass Mountain, the spacious Óperencia, so that one knows with certainty that one will return! - Sooner or later, if we are not careful, we may all become dizzy in the gaping Nothingness!

Perhaps it would be better to finally break our evil-faced, evil-livered mirrors, so that they can finally see with wise hearts that see the soul, and not with eyes that can be deceived; perhaps the somersaults and blunders of the past will once and for all be broken and they will increasingly look towards the future. Today, one can rarely believe: the only blacksmith of blessed, profiteering blind luck is someone other than oneself - stepping on the flower pots of tomorrows, Existence also leaks away unspeakably, while only reason and sober thought rise above instinct molecules. Now, mourning birds, humiliated even in their pride, are wandering in frightened loops and circles; they may have long been accustomed to the storm, breakage, and suffering that the ugly life offers them. Halfway between the ominous and the deadly, the tempted danger escaped between them, the tortured, thirsty pleasure was injected into the love struggle of hearts as a temporary happiness-drunkenness.

Perhaps only from the depths of the soul can the ancient tower of silences, rattling on invisible chains, protest, rebel; a strange, worldly voice that loses its meaning. Like the frozen Eskimos forgotten here above the fragile hole, people also stare into their embezzled future, increasingly deprived of hope. Beyond Being, Time with closed eyes still yawns towards man, opens its Charybdis-mouth, while a death's-head moth flies by the lamplight and brings unwary others to the top...

The trembling body of virtues, already washed away, trampled, falls down, then lies down for good; they slowly sink into forced conditionals. Some unfriendly buildings tower over high-rise office buildings with broken dominance.

Whatever you managed to say in your life, it stuck on the surface of the yawning water mirror. Because you know that no one can remain a separate island, the shore of which could not be linked to loyalty, love, love, or at least the fragmentary, momentary appearance of happiness. You have to keep your petty, translucent secrets for thirty years. As a snow -white canvas, you imagine the whispering of double life, even though you will soon realize only a burnt -out poraroid.

The pathetic stumbling blocks of your childhood are mostly forgotten, which will then be taken for the rest of your life every day; Because you would deliberately melt yourself into your narrower treacherous environment so that you do not accidentally cover the one you have survived. His dream teeth are concealed by the stray dream, and what the dawn is as if you were deliberately forgetting that you still have to do it here.

Just ask yourself the recurring question: are you resigning to the current position of your stuff, or would you rather change, but you have no idea where you can go?! Somewhere inside, you can feel that for the rest of your life, you have to beg a lot of things at the expense of others, not to be taken seriously as an equal party, to find the ways of your unsteady answers.

The deepest rabbit cavity of the Earth is not spacious enough until you accept it and get used to the parameters of your own prepared, born-of-the-bed loneliness.

Accelerated, dynamic life is now forced to take on new and newer figures; Development or even modernization - in many cases - is going to go or one another. The self -evident, saying visceral truth, may not exist anymore, at most, there are only shame spots, which, as a small -style, pathetic army of feces, cover mainly the averages of a shipwreck.

Return attempts also learn a new destination, as they have long realized that it would be an indifferent irresponsibility to do anything else; Because utility is certainly demanding the quota of Mihasna.

Here we live in the holy rust -hobbered, rotten rust, where in most cases - almost everyone is betrayed, betrayed, sells, feni to their own teeth, if they want to participate in the negotiations, Armani's suit, Hugo Boss neck scarf and some Prada bags.

Because nowadays there is a smile break and blindness here in total brainwashing, and the average minority man is uneasy as if he were vaccinated on the sediment; And because every mall has a real squirrel circle for four -time design, devalued commodities, which, for the sake of diversity, were more cheap in China, and then came here, and while Pakson is deceived by a nuclear reactor heater. In the meantime, imported hybrid models are operated with cheap alkaline element actions manufactured in battery factories to see if gasoline is not expensive again.

The stupid luxury of souls will be realized once in a lease, but in the meantime, these few people would have to be assigned and cut!

There is hardly any noticing: the sensitive or intentionally tuna indifference, like an infectious disease, is becoming more and more comfortable, making it more at home for individual people to make the nature of a fundamentally indifferent, superficial, careless. Because between the two points they are not just yawning, looking into our eyes - but the distances believed to be impassable.

As if there was no departure or arrival, just the humilizable consciousness of the crook systems between the two endpoints, which, to say the least, has long promised that what we have begun may be much better than development or the only possible attraction. Because now we can feel the sacred harmonious tranquility of times in our molecules and cells in our molecules and cells.

In addition to the rose-sleeved mornings, we should count with the almighty pleasures of the rose-toe mornings to recall the cycle of life and the apocryphal interpretation of life; It is as if everyone and everyone secretly feel how finally it is, to say, the awareness of finite trace ...

There is a hesitant shadow on the movable corpses of existence; Therefore, it would be good to squeeze your Angel's dear Babuster's hand. The tiny diodes of the ever-restless brains are thinly stunned by an exhausted constellation, what could have been a more livable and happier life, if it happens!

Now maybe you can speak calmly, wisely,  
We are still with each other now,  
Now you can confess with a very calm-heart that you have been unable to admit, undress, get rid of your perpetual pessimistic, petty, low-profile childhood, which has been organically in your life, even your instincts.

Now you can confess that in the tiring, vicinity, slightly pathetic life, you have come to you with a couple of true-heart wise friends and a helping acquaintance who may not have beaten and did not make a meaningful, lying-antle promise, laugh, or intentionally humiliated, Nor did it succeed.

Now you can recognize that you have never been able to pass through the medium concept of the coveted goldsmen and the Horatius formula of things and relationships or impose a pointless to others. In vain, you preached yourself to the metaphysics of certain "basic status".

Now you can calmly get bitter, mourn your little mice that: you dare to believe yourself, deceive your naive -child good faith, Yoricki's simplicity, if you encountered a superstitious, promising girl not just seeing the supermodible, You prefer to scrape the wall in your agony for letting things take a different direction.

Now you may admit that the price of gasoline 95 is rolling new record peaks and that the BUX has made a steep fall flight every time the diplomacy has been modified, and while the food prices are four times the tofu dough

To caress a man, like a stray dog ​​- I say - it is becoming more dangerous these days. You may first annoy yourself, either deliberately pulls you away or do not give you a ****** harm; And this - like it or not - was not only an alpine, ****, unethical act, but it may seem like it is attractive and impressive in liquid, brainwashed minds.

The hesitant pylons can be urinated just like the four -legged little pet can do it; True, they do not receive a fine or a fine at all because they could not pay tax. "Outside, they bark on each other, not only human masses, but also the little powers who, for selfish-mushy reasons, will be easily dusted anywhere, anywhere, anytime, and then there will be no lucky" intermediate zones ".

On the righteous, sinister chain, many chuckle-kicks are caring, overseeing Concise, prey, and does not want to understand that a petty chess character is only on the stage of history who can be easily trampled, paid or bribed; The bone coat of the bribed times is also chewed by the so-called. Serving Cerberus, of course, if there is, and there will be what everyday foods are available at four -time prices, and even the rubber bones that fit into toys are available.

At least for some, some more, that is what they are calculating, in the depths of their comprehensive souls, is now a total turmoil, unrelated, and does not back down for the sake of anyone.

A dangerously shrunken
Sififus world all,
cursed weight mountain as colon
puts on us, hanging on
over our body-soul up to
an iron hook or tweezers.

The average man
rather intentionally
closes toward yourself,
that even out of accident
nor can they recognize it,
don't have to
Others are curious-moss
he is finally revealed in his eyes.

The plans set,
petty, compromised
goals everywhere
rather closed doors,
Blind windows are welcomed,
for just certain
can be with key exclusions
Nowadays, anything to do now;
the mediocre kliss,
also
he is puzzled by one
*** kick, kicking,
or walking with muddy shoes
on cleaned situations.

The presence is old,
yellowed envelopes
certainly
harder to expand,
to see
The lack of care.

Steaming blade
next to the toilet
Even though it is so,
that for a thousand forints
It is only possible to let go of our *****;
black cat rushes over
from one corner to another
in his mouth maybe mouse,
or rat.

Between depth and height
halfway just just
a fading, thin
strip is visible,
which is getting easier
as a thin thread
You can break at any time.

As a dark bowle
El-Elgulul is still used,
over balding heads
guilt and shame petty,
pathetic alchemy.
Wasp
Tirgishada
chews on colonies;
between themselves the maps
they are also divided.

The tattooed brainwashed consciousness
- Fearful -, only rarely
may be responsible for better decisions.
Gross
The prison-smelling human soul!
The infinite emptiness
flawed spiral
Slowly consuming everything!