I'm tired already! All compromising toplessness became meaningless, it came from my self-pity, a sudden weakness — loads of burdens on my shoulders, the solving of which I could hardly accomplish alone. My paths are narrowing at ever-narrower, lost corners - all connections are made from the solid ground of my slipped soles: I'm entering into the convicted bribery of little men! -
All I could dream of as a child in myself: Concentrated circles on a widening horizon, the self-indulgent hunger of little boys, the impotent, strangling loneliness and the throbbing pumping of my pulsating horn-heart doomed to internal fertility - I was left out on my stomach! - Observing desperate horde stars,
the whispering whisper of whispering amongst one another, the lips' intoxicating cry, the deepening, trembling sigh, the rippling of the sea are mine! Now, though I am empowering my treasures at the bottom of my soul, I have remained compassionately trained in cowardice, who has been shattered by many, many years, and once again remained carefree, restless, demanding, and hungry!
And I can only fold it towards myself, a pathetic question: Is it worth it? And was it a pity? How have I secured the eternal and immortal secrets of my heart, as sacred fruits of transience, to coquettish exploiters? "What I can keep are just precious, rich details - small-style."
the wooden dolls of my sealing, immortalized fonts on false paper! What crumbles like cement towers, when it comes to finite decay, it breaks down like tiny fragrant molecules of flower seeds. I should answer as a secret remorse every night to myself: It's worth it! - Feeling the omnipotence of glances in my heart-pits - and in the eyes of the deer I might discover the Almighty Peace - which I had already missed
