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 begins with a tragic sigh
A sudden cool breeze
Tortuous cold fog
Leaving you unable to see

After a while, you stare at the broken pieces
Your shadow shattered on the floor
Tears falling one by one
You wait for someone to knock at the door

Days pass by, while you sit and rot
Too scared to open your eyes
You keep the curtains closed
You question, “Time flies?”

But then on a very subtle day
You shake your head and get up
It starts with taking a deep breath
Feeling that air in your body, down your lungs

You walk to the kitchen, slow and steady
And make some coffee for yourself
Still confused but something lights up inside you
You pick up and read the book buried on the shelf

It seems like you have to start from the beginning
Back from when you were just a kid
Pushed into this cruel world to “live”
Your whole life looks like a dark pyramid

You no longer wait for that knock
You stop longing for that one hug
You give up on the idea of being “saved”
So you ponder and let it go with a soft shrug

Whatever meant the most to you
Sounds like a stupid idea now
All that grief you were holding within
Seems like a television picture or a show
And this is how you know
This is the art of letting go

Doll-like
Porcelain-like
Glass-like
Fragile
Agile

Being your doll
Is like dirt being swept along the hall
It's exhausting
Bones have turned into mere joints
As you control my movements
You blame it on me and point
Pull on the strings
Move my parts
Remember what the rings
Are made for;
Art

Bendable
Any position you'd like and you got it
You want me on the table?
You got it!
Want me on the shelf?
You got it!
Want me to pose like an elf?
You got it!
Want to place me on your lap?
You got it!
You want to abuse me?
Do it
Those pretty patterns won't show up on me
They won't harm me

“Sit there and look pretty” is something I couldn't do because of you
Requests out of your mouth, going in the kitchen and making a sandwich for you

I can't eat
I can't even talk
I can't control myself
I've set myself up for my own demise
You're my owner
Forever

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!