The natural history of grief

 
The interrogated Past always turns back faster, becomes a fugitive. Relentless recognition keeps him at bay, haunting him like a tamed shadow. Humiliated failure shakes a leash just as it faces humiliation, like the fever possessed by lovers of raw instinct

In this bittersweet, forced exchange, it seems that the hugs are getting more and more prominent, and honest surrender can no longer be a real shame. Time, as merely a selfish vision living for itself, as a devastating, pitiful defeat, scolds suspicious people with double voices.

Between the fall that caused many somersaults, condemned to forced stagnation, and unplanned life paths - no one could have repented more cheerfully, trusting in long-lasting guaranteed happiness. The organs of Life follow petty ceremonies, they demand independence in the encrypted passages of molecules and cells.

It is no longer permissible to believe in false promises, tinsel, much-promised illusions, pink-syrup castles in the air, and it is better not to. The childish hope of the moment left this invisible, lifeless, bleak region with the ease of a child, where everything and everyone is now a burden to each other!

This big transfigured World out there is a bustling, snoring, filthy hospital. It's full of brainwashed, hypocritical idiots. The tabloid media, which obligatorily produces viewership numbers, is filthy and producing ever more low-style slepp-horns, and the real world is just a blatant lie-appearance! If babies forced into prison-captivity in incubators also cry for their mothers!