You look like the star Sirius,
Leading to my attachment serious.
You are a beauty by the outside,
Question unasked of the inside.
The hair of yours I want to adore,
The nose I want to touch without rapture,
Your feelings I want to capture,
You as my partner I want to feature,
The idealization I want out of my nature.

I couldn't believe that anything could exist after the great nirvana-nothing; When, as tiny nuclei, more than millions of cells molecules, the heart-wounded heart is decomposed on a millions of molecules, the shipwreck souls screams the pain of the last prayer, before they finally get out of captivity. The uncertain life serpentine trails are still invisible beyond the life they have begun, but still felt and present.

Without gap continuing, the constantly self -proclaimed human thought builds a stairs; How would a human infinite story have continued if we dare to step down a minute-to-minute fragment of the impossible venture that is ridiculous to some of them, or the eternal love, which is supposedly only once in our lives, as it is an arranged series of other repetitions.

Now, everyone can only push the memorial box, but doubt that it will open it, because it is so many times not only free will but also the law of humility; For common pleasures, he could no longer remain free tickets or quotas. Tomorrow's deliberately blind hope would be unexpected to demand wandered Jusses, and still do not understand who endless dances are going around?!

On the path of our destiny, we stumble upon it, as time as time as time as time as old as agitated and soulful. The rebellion of the masses can never be thank you enough, a pathetic merit for the otherwise complicated history complex.

Nowadays, those who are tough in tough destinies, as if they had become slippers, who had to kiss their legs and *****, because - secretly - they know more and more; Praise, petty premiums, pathetic laurels have never been given for free or just salary.

Fair work - if at all - has long been gone. Only fake-lieing, tinsel, small-style, small-style little practices, which usually took the big average to easily scam everyone on the backboard.

The prophets of truth and wisdom were retreated into their mole-like caves because they found that the mass-massed people of the modern age had intentionally turned their backs not only to the archangels' crooks, but also to the Jericho trombones, as well as manipulated Cassandra.

The dog's wounded palms trained in a tablet, the dog is not even curious; In the drunkenness of their daily drunkenness, they are crushed by their daily work abundance Stathanov's chips. The stolen life scatters fragments of rocks because it would be in vain to reuse the majority raw material. Human wildlife is forced to knees by the higher idiot leadership.

Until the unexpected day of their death, they carry their marshmallows with forced, indifferent resignation, and while the PlayStation, gadget-manic new donkey generation turns the back of the good man, just like the universal values ​​of books, culture, the Atlantic-flowered sighs of romance.

On the rockets of Katyusa wings, the nuclear, uncertain future trembling, rumbling over our heads; And while cells, billions of molecules, are in a moment into nucleus, perhaps the human feelings that are thought to be eternal, loyal, are breaking, increasing themselves to more than millions of particles in the confused presence!

From scattered letters, you can rarely put together who you were used to, because radical digitalization is now like some malicious, pathetic illness in your daily lives. Because you can only observe the change in yourself, which, according to truth, does not change, at most, only instincts can also change or change.

It is as if even your DNA would perceive the one you can trust, because you don't always be a scream or a heccle - but you will definitely follow your childish rules of play and who, when you lightly, is nonsense.

From your squeezed mouth biting words, no one has yet asked how and how you feel so many desperate, hopeless decades from a distance. The deliberately beautified memories of you, so that the uncertain present can look a little more livable for at least sixty a few years, and then it doesn't matter to you. Because camouflaged sincerity's personalized forced jacket is nowadays finally getting out, as if wearing severe scrapers are almost impossible.

Monkeys obedient to preaching words in brainwashed brains march not only on the border of monkey countries; You can compare you to a sorrow, no one, no one has spoken to anyone, as if it were an inner defensive mechanism that you can only understand and accept.

In the way of sleeping, even a pathetic, laughing ghost, you are still limping, hard-to-life, and you would love to have your dear, you can shake hands because you have to love it, and it is still easy!

You are in a hurry trying to say goodbye to a long -forgotten honey -glazed, calling voice that promised the sacred promises of immortal romance; You would knock on closed doors, gates, closed windows, but you are disappointed with yourself and tell yourself: Come on! Why?! Next to a advertising wall, like most of the dogs, you stop and unexpectedly surprise the bitter, penetrating smell of the urethral ammonia. Maybe you weren't better, and it's different than anyone, just an average guy who is still out.

You are still a little stuck, because it seems as if you don't want to go to work that day, where your slave bosses are regularly yelling at her pant, baldness, pathetic head, and you need to break the stolen nuts that can decorate your table.

End length is not forever over your head The failure, steel-white neon light, but you would rather vote for the well-proven sixty watt pears, and you are lucky to have another small style, mole diopter. Your superficial relationships have become an infinite water -eighth, because, according to many, you have deliberately neglected them.

Just when you feel that you would burn out and give up more, since a sober meaning and foreseeable logic have long been gone, a romantic voice is dead in your mobile: "Hi beautiful boy! I miss you darling! " -and you -like most -, love -hungry, sober pathetic idiot, with a disgusting, disgraced consciousness, listen to the etheric, pearl -chattering sound of the other everyday success,

Many have already asked you what you have done for yourself to be a little more livable, tolerable, and while you list what you have done, what you have done to the noble, right, good, They get a idiot for a day 24 hours a day!

Now, with an enthusiastic grin, they are daring the seven -ended stars of deterioration; ugly is now a desperate multitude, gnawing on the vain with Nirvana. It would have been better if the little minute-to-man blue people would try to experience the hearts of the heart once and to independent of the hypocritical exhibitionism and the infecto they had intentionally fell into.

The degree of shocks - in many cases - is tamed into rock -solid features. The Loser Ostob was also placed in the crossfire of existence, who even believed that he could get benefits and premiums in exchange for the work of overtime, and to be taken over and over again on the holidays. The denial of closed eyes could be more obvious, no more conflicting.

The massive spread of mouth odors, which causes the first-to-road flirts, eyelashes, and the light, airy romance of kisses; Often with modesty, it is often the case that they are shaken, because the self -sealing of himself is the discrete charm of reality that chains and tempts at the same time.

They are now trying to take care of the puzzal all -paved scenes; The more appealing a fuss in a circus, no end-to-end rooster, no more chic and more ostentatious. The cosmic laws of the essential order - fearful - are no longer a way, whether wise or wisely deaf ears.

The darling destruction, the lasting rotting can be delayed for decades while a digital nomad-or if you like-is growing again, non-comprehensive degenerate donkey generation!

It would be good to face at least a few times on the bumpy, predictable paths of life, with a pale, two-color sunlight, when a hearty, plate-namous love quarrel, when we thought it could now be built on all the sand, collapsed card castles, and not to be hidden.

Broken gestures, small-style gestures can remain with man only if he is frightened of his own greedy but sincere emotions, which are integrated into their cell molecules and instincts, so they have become part of it. The footprints of the torn memories are still preserved by the snow -white sandy beach, which is nursed by the bleeding sunset; Who knows if a life-creating relay run can start again?!

Nowadays, halfway between the darling, donkey tissues, stingy, silent stones, maybe one or two if you can still keep the silent apocryphal dialogues. They ran away -who knows where -to the infinity because the protective angels of the paradise found were being expelled and ashamed of shattered their Ikarus wings.

You should never fall irresponsible into the spear of sighs; Romantic calls should be entrusted to the cherished, benevolent captivity of the Procrostic Beds. In a grotesque-stool world, it would be good to know that even the spiral devil circles are not multiplying and breeding in the split atoms-but they tend to break cherished flower petals.

They do not now be parked by anyone with their free-to-leaves; They only raise muddy muddy nests from the day, just nonsense, nonsense promises!

Like a head onion that is just peeled as layers if they want to get to the more real essence at all - so we are more inner, with our more in -aimed at all, our eyes; Our goodwill and disguised plans - barely noticed - as if we had already been deliberately observed. In the rolled, symmetrical noises, the unreasonable eternity of the soul, the sincerity that is often attached to each other's heads, is almost hardly heard or clear.

The secret Violin key seemed to have broken the gates and launches to rust, which opened to the gates; Why is it that nowadays souls are bassed as inherited Asians, and the West seems to be farther away?! - and who the omniscient noisy has passed with a panic, and now they have been silent for a long time.

Because the contradictions are now facing, instead of trying the negotiable compromise of the compromises, the brainwashed skulls, which have been ****** in by the elamic, lasting brutal show of tabloid media; "Whoever digs to someone else" - and while the Mantra reporter and small -style influenced, even the laughing, laughing accomplices are more likely to change questions to make their doubtful answers reliable!

And because this is how this russian is moving, a tricky one world seems to be completely natural, that one will sooner or later be compromised and sells itself in a bribe!

There is no will or hesitant emotion anymore; It would be good if it would have been possible to plant empathy-tolerance in the forests of the tiny lights, along with the usual hunger for love. The distance is as if it would be increasingly obvious between far-flung distances, not just between a man-man. The soul of the soul is also ruined uncomfortable; Memories that fit into Atlantis also sink in it if they are not careful.

Crocodile tears would look for a way out under the fountains of the forehead, if possible; Inside, the slightly small, pathetic arm of the retreating, measured sighs ask for his admission somewhere, which they only know that the dirt of everyday life should be washed and expelled. The senses are dampened by the cell element, the inner secret suspicion, which also prevents one from trusting the other at least once in a while.

Outside, his dance is still dance by the pathetic, nonsensical talmic cheer; The illusion of possible opportunities, which is unfortunately not at all reserved for the average. The eager, eager, pursuit of success is tilted with its selfish limbs. As a fibrous wooden beam, they lined up in life with the unworthy, ship-wrapped sins that no one can get rid of.

From the field of idyllic dreams, his still victims are retreated by the formula of realistic reality; They are searching or looking for gaps where they may still be able to swim with this confused whole, because one can hardly do anything else in the loops of time, like a *****, soaked metaphor!