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  • Unnoticeable care

    A blessedly caring, faithful woman's hand stood in the lake, and it will not change my fate. He already wastes every pitiful minute left to me for the house of cards of unnecessary illusions - not so much -, his delightfully sweet, flaming heartbeats for love, for immortal Everything - he is afraid - they are all wasted.

    Throat-suffocating, interrogative moments gnaw their embittered emotions into my eyes. It is a difficult instinct to feel, and in their digestion of emotions to squeeze out its last and final thrashings of the abandoned, shipwrecked existence.

    In his drift, he himself is filled with more and more fresh pitiful, unworthy, humiliating wounds, which cannot be healed by good words, promises, medicine kisses. The heart and the remembering soul would yearn more and more determinedly and greedily for what had happened, while inside, the fool was working out thorough, precise plans for secret suicides.

    It's all a capricious, failed attempt. Is it possible to move on from it, and can there still be rules set in stone for survivability?! – Having gone astray, the spoiled diva crumbles her tears in a bit of a daze, jampec jelly pepper.

    The tormented moments of bittersweet reunion. They create hyper-fast disillusionment immediately. Flirting and flirting are no longer worth anything; shackled, muted, it became a complimentary gesture again, an honest, emotional confession - akin to weightless floating.

    A seagull-soul movement born free exults more and more desperately, frolicking between rows of houses. With your moss-shaven face, no one can notice your excruciating Nirvana pain. He carries the solid mine-shard of shock inside himself, just like silenced messengers, mute prophets!

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