INTERNAL VALVES BETWEEN THOUGHT-COGWHEELS

 It would be good to let go of everything now. The unnecessary has become too loose; the shackles of memory, faces, padlocks. As if some inner intangibility were always chasing a person. It is known: human relationships, the consolations of being in love, the implications of relationships, which were still nourished by oaths of loyalty, will suddenly come to an end. 

Thus, a person remains in a double shell-solitude, which he still has to wear himself, Be careful everyone! The friendships and handshakes that have become useless have thickened into a plastic mass, like when we promise something from God, referring to our mother's life, and when the sacred time of actions and wills comes, with a single hussar-like turn of the wheel we search through the gears of our thoughts, like accomplices, to see what kind of petty-minor benefit we can derive from the whole thing, and then maybe we help, but unfortunately not always. 

Unbroken spaces have been immediately destroyed by the useless years, Now man stands alone, hesitating, swaying, like a pilgrim's will for joy or melancholy suffering; with unthinkable simplicity, finally twisted out of the inner circles of things, just another station. 

Because now the World is once again speaking of the beginnings of grace, preaching unnecessarily, because when was it possible to still believe in the massive intimacy of Biedermeier, or the intricate ivy patterns of Rococo?! Partnerless, manipulable chess games are now swinging around not only the continents of the earth, but also the entire cosmic world order; to acknowledge and accept reality as a sign of guilt, as evidence, is a surprisingly difficult, yet selfish task.

 The deliberate weighing of exhausted promises, the intoxicating dosage of eternal curses, as if it were beaten into a person, or rather practiced, his permanent misery.