Free-looting

Executioner Time is still on hold. And like a voracious scavenger, circling on high - devouring the poisoned bulgarian Jelen. The useless chattering, the senseless running amok-glittering. Even the eternal, romantic moments are no longer for us to understand with whom we must bear, if we would have our common purpose?

We are permeated, like the sticky, viscous secretion of a slime that oozes its ugliness, by the bribe. We have little chance, if we had any, nowadays, and fewer and fewer people understand the science of free delay.

In many places, intoxicated happiness is scaled like silver icing sugar. It can be safely rubbed on two fingers - we wander miserably like the minute-men of the world. The new search for Existence, like a hope lost, is always diminished or thwarted in the prison-cage of everyday life.

Nesting in their nests, everyone can now listen to what the little people's so-called consciences mutter inside: senseless worm-doctors devour and surround. Wings or roots are all but enough to ensure their survival on a life-losing paper thread.

The world is like a treacherous, total wasteland. One man devours, tramples, murders another, and Existence no longer has the will to quell the skyrocketing number of deliberate suicides.

Even the soul-saving solace squeezed into a lifeboat is being torn apart by selfish, worldly despair. - A hypocritical showcase of merging goodness is a light-reflection. Who was it that ever took account of all earthly witness?!

A seemingly determined, vain greed of interest Washes out the villainous villains and their helpers. As if all we have to do with Being were to begin again today. There are crumbs to be sniffed at by the plunderer who knows he has embezzled all he has!