Pudding test

As if you were at the same time in dialectical interaction with everyone; Instead of slowed truths, the era of deliberately accelerated lies, decisions, and beautiful ears were now. The bankruptcy of redeeming traps seemed to be a minute-to-one, as the events of everyday life believed to be rock-solid are merely repentant for those who stayed here.

Now everything is so uncertain, vulnerable, translucent; A gesture, or a attractive flirt-smell, a holy guarantee of given handshakes that create new career opportunities at the same time, but at the expense of everyone else.

Whether the manipulation of status and interest relationships would be easy to succeed. And while wounded hearts may suffer new, calculating, self -established pipe fractures where the souls who want to take care of the soul remain, who would have the job to heal the spiritual wounds?!

Somewhere halfway between quilting and respect, the Almighty point had long been lost: you. that they were once raised for mortals and people, who, in the company of the masses, became mobs by the time to change.

Chewing gum mass, sticky slashes have become the feeling or simplified confession; List thresholds -as you like -can only cross one average during a single shipwreck. Is it more difficult for the mere defiance to be more difficult if the conscious doubts are not haunted daily?!

How many more wasted, pitiful, nightmare-filled, futile vigils are needed for a moment that was said to be eternal, to let not only the lack that is said to be permanent, but also the emptiness to leak out once and for all?! Despite the deliberately diverted parts, it seems as if the pitifully structured scenario could have always remained the same.

Sooner or later, someone will really get to know someone, and what's more, on an instinctive, visceral level, they will unexpectedly throw them away, saying; he delved too much into the other's more personal, more modest, lyrical self, which is like a thick, unbreakable walnut gut, and it's a tough job to even break it open, especially when someone tries to protect and protect his soul with doubled spiral walls.

Then comes another love that flirts with the Universe, but is still trite, which may seem to totally replace, change, and convert the person in question, until finally, one fine day, it ends in a painful breakup simply because the secret gigantic weight, the outbursts of honest, lying emotions are no longer they can be enough to make everything right, or just make up for it.

Questions, new illusions, and insecurities surround the individual day by day, and when the registrar's finale comes, instead of the obligatory yeses, nos are heard, because material well-being is still worth more than a paltry, life-smelling petty emotion. But the long-awaited solid and eternal snail-house happiness just can't come, since both parties made a petty, calculated deal in their own way, so they bargained at the same time. It's a shame to put the apparent oiliness in yet another set of question marks.

The current social conventions, which can be chosen on purpose, are still deliberately imposed on each individual and try to regulate the life of the traditional average, while, condensed into a single minute, the given life will soon fly away, and there will not be a single witness left who knows who was, or could have been, the another?!

Everyone knows by now: Mouse nibbling pulverizes the brain, reason, and culture, and every shrill, shrill sneaking around becomes unfathomable in the cauldron of souls. Everyone gets a vigilant donkey's head, and more and more often the simple court fool can only be absolutely right.

Stuttering in the soothing sheep choir is now becoming more and more popular. Minutes's field of vision is getting narrower and narrower, the superficial success of minute-man blue. Discounted autographs and superficial gestures are handed out by the privileged and the deserving. Even sweet mistakes lose themselves on purpose. More and more people are claiming that they have the right to be successful or to earn a lot of money as an influencer. In a black-and-white world, simplified things can easily become complicated.

Now, foolish brutes and wild animals enjoy themselves and parade in abundance. The embittered odious words that once spiced up the cozy night with an idyllic, sweet romance - now, in bitter, stripped-down habit, they are deepening further and further in their own, selfish underworld. That a real lady could so easily succumb to the sight of a macho testosterone Titan after a single candlelit dinner. He can't give a compliment yet, but he drives a Porsche or even a Ferrari if he feels like it; and the soul-seeing willow poet may fall on his face sooner.

Now fewer and fewer people can climb to the heights of the Heaven of emerging Being; fewer and fewer soul-seeers could remain on their feet, just like the truer, more immortal believers in Allness, who could still feel the vulnerable joys of Being in the midst of the materialized world!

The flickering sliver of night light now encloses the pitch black like a looming, cracked lampshade. Outside, the brutal cold of winter, which wants to gnash its teeth, bends icicles, even though it is only minus two at the moment. "That's plenty too!" - you think, while a lost yellow-cheese taxi carelessly passes in front of your house.

Something has stopped again and disappeared from this World that is now starting the new year. You can't be 100% certain that you've actually just become a tolerated, transiting guest, who is asked to go to hell behind your back with the very first elegant gesture, or is pestered for a while with wait-and-see, honey-glazed tactics. - A surprising number of people flounder through their own ****** lives, as if everything and everyone is already spiraling towards the great common debtor, from which there is neither escape nor return.

The fake passwords that also attack the other worlds in the form of belated rescuers rarely, if ever, arrive on time; an elderly mother collapses on the open street corner, while curious, naive, almost childlike onlookers rush around her, while her carefree and worn-out body sighs out its thought-to-be-immortal soul as the last unfinished chapter.

The wretched shell-loneliness, and rather the increased avoidance of redundancy, increasingly tempts the still-stuck living. - The fate of the lost often scares even those who are only now trying to learn and teach the acid and pepper of the capitalized but lying Life. The projected vision of the future is now even more glaring, and even more conspicuous. The beginning and end are often barely recognizable!