Ghost-running

      
     Even a sharp-roaring cold can’t fall well; Your balls of true pearls will stick to the veins of your flaming face like a red apple and will smash and knock when they hit the ground! He would sniff high up, gasping for mountain air a little cleaner, preservable, like an asthmatic! Your confidence erupts in your wounded petal soul; your selfish life is nailed to a chair or table; you are starting to get used to it gradually: you can't be right either. They'll knock down your worn-out taxi clock!
      
     What a killing, lousy slap in Life! And maybe for "some" it's the leader, because that's all there is left! Holy indifference already envelops you as a restraining force! The Present is creeping and twisting with Angola! And everyone hides back into their own flesh when they humble themselves! Depth and Height are already nesting there in everyone! A mysterious intuition of prophecy is often torn out of non-existence; decisions are forced out by the Word of Traitor! In your shivering smile, you may know yourself when the snow falls!
      
     Your introverted loneliness is also becoming more Stone Age; your soul is constantly hypersensitive Irish on a barely known chessboard! The restless, curious child inside rubs the purple petal of your heart! With an open mind, you would welcome everyone to be your sincere Friends, but you are already going to the wall from the corinates of jerks! - You expose yourself to the fact that by listening to the solid vases and the rattling of fragments of memory, which are emptied of your past deprived life, you are still listening!