Hellish line

      
     In the memories of broken Hells, our luck and grief often turn; If we are looking for a friend and an enemy, we are already investigating! The Dark sends us non-bargaining Morse signs from another, unknown world! The beating gods of the Heart have lost their favor many times! Being, like a water jug filled to the brim, pulls us deep! The blinding of dogs of conscience echoes all the way to the shells of our listening ears! In our dreams of Sisyphus, every stone and rock recreates itself as a judgmental judgment!
      
     Anxiety moved as a single body in us! In Congo space, our gift-fortune strikes here and there: the reaping laurels of silent opportunity were not reserved for us by the little kings of Being! In the long hours of our loneliness, we should first deal with atrophy together! The retained heat waves of memories hardly hurt anymore, yet they are necessary for us to reconcile with ourselves!
      
     The familiar unrest swirled round and round! A stone block of silence breathes in our heads; we were forced to measure the night with bouncing weights! Our windows, still guarding our consciences, testify to our minds of fog-piercing Truths when asked! It is also a fertile, silent envelope flowing to our pounding hearts; all goodbyes converge as an outer glaze! Our predictable stick dreams are less and less alerting us to emergencies; the final formula for deprived expulsion is suicidal intent; direct inaccuracy appropriates instinctive
      
     our senses and makes us back down! Conscious sleepers can't even wake up with the muffler! Our prodigal souls have become overturned trash; among perishable treasures, when can we finally find treasures?!