COMPT

 
Time, this old snow-hooked old man, is still too full of himself; I don't see how I could fit into the story. My old pessimism and my bad mood do not want to go away.

The so-called more beautiful reality shows its back, whether suspicious-looking, pock-marked strangers or even greedy, beaten monsters constantly force me to stand among them and loudly chant brainwashed, propaganda slogans about the greater life opportunities that have become only for the privileged.

During the happy-sad hour of self-pity, they eat bigger and bigger bites of your soul. Luscious, double-minded mirrors constantly make fun of the heart that falls easily in love, just like a beggar forever picking up crumbs for a whole life, the dragged soul.

It seems to be easier to come back halfway from the darkness outside than from the inner darkness that wants to consume us. The frozen starlight does not let up from the eye socket view of the dead. And why is it nowadays that the living deliberately avoid each other?!

Is COVID still lurking and destroying in secret?!

A wide-eyed old age mourns the everyday life that has consciously fallen into Nirvana. Because the one who doesn't hesitate and even thinks at all will know: the world has also become deliberately color blind and nothing is black and white anymore!

Hope has turned gray and the doubt lurking quietly behind time. He laughs toothlessly and stumbles over his own feet. Everyone should slowly decide what really hurts them?! The momentary absence of things, or of memories and feelings? We take care of our open and refined sleaze among ourselves.