ANXIOUS PULLING FATE-SEALED TRUTH

 Some remaining, unfinished feelings still linger on the shores of restless, storm-beaten hearts; the restless churning of instinct cells closes in on itself on the outskirts of Space and Time. Instead of futile carousel loves, it would be good to safely experience the immortal euphorias of the Universe, because even the cruel Fate seems to be waiting for only one thing - it deliberately seals the individual lines of human tragedy. Walking in the mirror of sinking present times, the panting features of the person who has become can be distorted at any time, like some grotesque reflection. 

Because a person - whether he wants to or not - is forced to carry, to carry with him the petty secrets that invite death, which only he alone can know. Even those who want to live can be trampled by any number of soul migrations; lukewarm prosperity can rarely fill the holey stomach of poverty - not even around Christmas - because - undoubtedly - the lovely idlers want to wallow more and more in their own manure piles. Large, lazy animals sleep, a labyrinth of anxious struggles inoculated into the cheap triumph of mediocrity, from which it is increasingly difficult to free oneself. 

The yoke of laws that seemed to ossify in rotten indifference is increasingly unbearable to tolerate. Under suspicious, digital magnifying lenses, it is no longer possible to get to know anyone honestly and truly. They always sigh for some cursed, disowned mantra-preaching - especially those - who already have plenty to chop into soup; yet so many would wait with secret cries until the intention to help could become a touch.

 As if the great swindler were already leading everything and everyone by the nose. Because now everyone is playing the role of a smiling soul-tender, and anyone who dares to admit that something is wrong in the world can already be a cause for suspicion in the camp of bleating fools.