Sketch-fixing

     
    Three-quarters past six! Im expelled from the redemptive eden of the dream, because the sobering, dawn robot must begin: mechanical action! Your visions will force you back into your half-hibernated waking dreams! Your clothes are patiently waiting to be pounded and chased into the pounding drum of your washing machine; your body is suddenly saturated with expired consciousness: The Sun began without you!
    You would keep waiting for his word to see if you can still hear it, but the outside world is listening outside and hardly answering! In the universe of your skull, the Moon Stars are dizzy before morning coffee; deepening cavities for a smoother future! Wordlessly shade around you the shadows of your ruined possibilities, what couldn’t you grasp?
     
    Many times you sniff yourself more because the insidious lie contained in the uttered sentence is unbearable; organists are raging more and more wildly, hyena-throated pathetic minute-blue people! He who has always persevered, trembled and feared would always like to hide! In the primeval forest of your blood vessels, the channels of throbbing blood streams would be reabsorbed! Your true wisdom is what you keep silent in yourself!
     
    Your things, your overworked organs, are still tired and exhausted, until your metabolism calls for a natural thing! "Who has learned to recognize the moods of his selfish body so that he can no longer snuggle into lying words!" He's still listening to you Whole! The Calculating Parts are listening to you! Do you want to calm down in an even more predictable motion and you can't even know when the Light is shining on the petals of your wounded Soul?