WITH PERSONAL TICKETS

 Very close, too close to thirty. Movements, gestures, and cheap, deliberate actions set the course for adulthood! Bald follicles of hair dyed with pity Old Time: let society see if it pities or tramples him Who walks crookedly, waddling, and ashamed of himself, Courting. With eyes unbreakable and honest, A child weeps, wails, and cries!

"You should have started a family long ago, you rotten scoundrel!" - The Robinson of man's conscience goes inward: he seeks the secret lairs of unknown blood-heroes, the safe homes of heart-ports, more and more urgently, for he cannot find his own rest!

Beneath the skin the heart-cups with crocodile tears of tears are torn open: up and down grind the still gnashing, lonely teeth! - But still above, the Eye holds a rich, priceless gift of secrets! Salt and vulnerability! Pieces of flesh hung on spiked rolls still move the inner commandment

By the law of the muscle, and on and on The chewed, soul-tormenting years come, though with a limping drag! In irreversible order comes the point: the guilty weight of misfortune: DNA's coded house rules preserve biological inheritances, And spiritual intelligence grows only on the hands of faithful witnesses!

- They cast it in leather, so that there may still be a continuation of human Morality: black spots in the soul, lessons to be learned: red dots!