encourages perfection, highlights errors, the failure is like cold smoke in the air. back. I was not going to fight them. I had not at once, return to it. ambiguous structures. the symbol of life brings you down . unprepared. in an ordinary way . flew too high. pure hubris. I was not going to escape the rigid. I wanted to keep me before they just suck. to dramatize personal failure. to confess that to be called gods clearly are more than just that. realize my own sacrifice . uncertainty remains. rest my head till the morning's coming down on me . Raising awareness. ne to the circular space. swamping the belly. and then summon the dead spot to hide the disappointment. a victim who was not. in retrospect, the certainty of forced. maybe. afterwards. the backward run, so as not to come back.
of perfectionism, the interplay of strong and weak symikolen, insignificant sets, separated by poorly painted. this all is. the flattering ambiente between light and dark. too dark. and to hell this all is in my head . the sardonic harmony and shame. the release do not want. times that I borrowed . and want but can not. the span in the eye. the wood-processing of the other. not even a blind flat arric can deceive. not even in the fog of repression.
break old wounds. unprocessed screams. dragged me down into the unknown. demand is evident. while it is not all. the perfectionism of the other pojiziert black holes in an elegant, black and white evasive maneuvers. woefully overvalued weichspülgitarren appetizer to press the front and the optic nerve. the view of the active viewer is limited, steadfast aural went to eleven. the rest are disk sets of old times. welcome, old schema. The question remains: that is minimal ground near enough to debate?
i cannot bring it back. i threw it all away.
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