Koala Kamaji

Individual subconscious irritability pulls for hair to a floor all below and below, pressing the cold edge to a throat. A first step aside dirty, similar to a decaying womb, spaces. What matter, continuous game of the imaginations improbably silly looking on a background of all rest. Any truth pack of lies. What trust, it is superfluous.... Somewhere mirror reflection of positive ideas here disappears. By a thin layer it is smeared on a surface of it to a semi - fiction. Is not present black white, there is disgusting corner of consciousness only deprived everyone borders not clearly how interwining with a reality.... There Is one blood system, there are three drops necessary for maintenance of vital signs. There is an opportunity to breathe, there is no opportunity to shoot that who has thought up time...