PLEASURE SPENT

Time: a kitchen of atomic-bomb-excited hell is often darting across human-conquered horizon continents. In the abyss-digging doom-horn of apocalyptic futures, who can truly see?! A mad, purposeless prostitute age now reveals itself in all things common! Idyllic romance and faithful virginity can only watch by the light of day, when the darkness of the worthy is at hand. The hallowed shadow of Ceda's angels caresses my heart.

Out of every silenced word, and out of the cross-eyes of the scattered glances, new wounds seep; who else is worthy and called to unravel the superficial and obscure riddle that envelops existence: why has man become the little plaything of others? Is he himself a traitor? - The world is a forgotten wreck: insidious scrapers chase each other at the expense of even dirtier reputations for success, which always ends up in a fancy V.I.P. romance, where a good champagne and a dreamy, fake luxury guarantee an instantaneous stimulation of the imagination. 

Fate-stealing, smiling, charming faces yawn with boredom. Killing sincerity, if it exists, no longer moves anyone. Clinging to nothingness alantos service-enders the playable formula is always fatal. More and more have been forced to wear the infidelity outwardly. In glittering, loving eyes, the stigmatized, throbbing sarcophagus of happiness can only be realized as a predictable part of a viable strategy. Silently embracing, threadbare cries of silences threadbare cries of half-interrupted hangover feeling begin to become more insistent to themselves in the prison-spiral of lived acts. 

Between worn joy and balancing abyss, it would be good to cling and take root in some one's side, in a security-imagined equilibrium!