no, that's all, let's stop - pack your things and leave. take the suitcase in the pantry and grab my soul with you, not that I don’t need it, but there’s no point in it anymore.
this spring, as it turned out, is too cold, I hide my hands in my pockets, I don’t think, I smoke for hours in the window. the view from the window is nasty, boring, tea without sugar every day, pour sadness and sour insult. the cat doesn’t drink milk - the third day it’s in the bowl, in the corner closer to the exit. words from the tongue fly into the abyss that has cooled, except for vodka with fruit drinks, it’s better only my mother’s cheesecakes for breakfast.
unanswered calls, and the eternal hiss in the handsets, tightly discourages any desire for this bitter love, it seems all are so good, and you try - drop it deep ... everywhere there are stones and knife knocks in the back. the world rots, everything falls into the pit, once upon a time, great dreams, and fun people ruin people with an ending in "in." they sit in the sun, and the rays pass through the holes in them, and some drops leave circles on the water. hey where are you !? take your time, look around that corner, where your poems are torn to shreds and stop suffering already, collect your snot. albeit rude and not correct, but everything to the cunt. let's get ready and leave.
