FALSE HANDHOLDS, DECEIVED ILLUSIONS

 The limping Future is almost unmarked; petty troubles and troubles, dangers swallowed up by cares, are bustling here and there with petty pleasure, because consolations gathered in distorted indifference are not sure to help a person through the pits of supposed-real difficulties. Even so, some wanderers, homeless shells-solitudes, filled with tears, forced to swallow back so many humiliations from nowhere, knowing that no one can protect or defend them anymore. Instead of twisted fatherly advice, it would be good to have a few more reliable neighbors, - so that billions of one-figures don't have to deliberately mock the sure hope of adulthood.

 Dreams, falling into the pits of human souls, crash like losers; because petty secrets still live happily and indifferently in the depths of hidden chambers of the heart. Game theories played out in promises, in the disappointments of handshakes, as if they were just rewound films, which the searching human mind projects before its eyes again and again as a vision. - Sorry, it is becoming increasingly rare here. Only Gordian knots of false judgments are visible, like a patched-up, expensive Persian carpet, and one often hears a past-evoking snort. Why is it that every beating heart that once swore loyalty to itself is now immersed in lies and can never free itself from it voluntarily?! Self-deception does not really calm the slightest bit; it restrains the visceral limbs of a person and humiliates him.

 Conscious shame seems to have worn out everyone permanently and indifferently. We now turn to the Present with unquestionable certainty, where - unfortunately, increasingly - it is known for sure: a person can only rely on themselves, even if they fall into total doubt.