Things between things

I have known for a long time what a waste it is to lose myself. Wandering aimlessly shipwrecked under the skies of this cruel Hyena world. Vomit the peaceful memories secretly expected, romantic kisses.

Meanwhile, Time has already flown by. You can also see a scarecrow standing in a field of withered ears of corn, languishing in statelessness, on a serenade guarded by soldiers. Which can no longer interrogate or question the greedily crowing feathered thief princes.

I know what it can mean to dream of being underground. Death awaits me with a flickering knife tip on the end of a crippled, rusty dagger, or medicated suicide on a day when I'm dying to the core.

And yet to consciously step out of a deliberately betraying existence that humiliates even oneself. To leave once and for all the hangman-troubled history of which one could no longer be a part. - Finally, in the balmy evening on the beach, feeding on each other's greedy eyes is what truly creates love.
And just to feel that life is throbbing and tingling even now, when the treacherous heart has already left everyone.

Among all things, it is getting more and more difficult and difficult to heal, like the irreversible occurrence of the past, like a wound that has started to scab. I know because I now know the eternal pains of becoming an adult, when even the initiated man is undeservedly humiliated and laughed out of shame, like snarling hurricanes, full of murderous joys.

Letting go of the thoughts of destinies, which we once pledged to each other in common loyalty, and no one else but ourselves could know. Even so, Time forgets and erases our further unworthy attempts at an accelerated pace. Only you can tell if he was guilty or innocent!