Intermediate finish

... no, life does not hang - life quietly flows interwallates with water from an open crane. We do not build it, it seems that we are like pebbles - the sea, she rolling incentively, grinding. And there is no rest to us until we take in its underworld the standard shape and the color is homogeneous. For what we are for oblivion, and the life is honorable. I am early lit and light enough. I"ll donate sleep in sleep, I"ll die in a dream, I"ll fall out in a dream, I will dissolve in it, it is disappearance ... I don"t feel sorry for life. I sleep, and she, as a soldier service, goes. And with iron logicality - will come true. Neither the mystery of the fire is not clear to us nor a deep cold background. Merznut a middle. Perhaps the soul turns into a cocoon, so that the butterfly spoil after the end? Pretty chatter - we think about the life of the hour. Sky - dark and dark. And life swallows us, narrowing, just as the composition of the tunnel. He became a list of a brief inventory of our detailed options. And we are only writing about it and pray. Scary - compensate with the cruelty of life. We know, our world urges the soul and dirty faces, and the time flows through us, like a broadcast, rejected by physics ... Darkness Golden ... Everything - in the future ... Helios will eat horses ... like pebbles, life grinds us, rolls. And we, fools - everything about her yes about her!