The polar sky and the northern lights.
Do you remember me and will you understand? Or you and I are already lost -
where there is no way out but just a hug.
And I don't know better classes
than waiting for us to be there again.
To be with you so far, but still close somewhere in the chest.
Cola and nicotine, write down thoughts that will become recitative.
Standing under the sky, seemed strange and unsociable to someone.
And ask one thing: please free me.
I lay drunk in the snow, looking at the sky, and in it it was.
Friends spoke coldly, and I spoke beautifully.
And in those minutes I believed that it would be with me forever.
There will be strength to love and speak for this: Thank you.
But the world fucked us up and in the end I was lost.
I'll wake up tomorrow and don't remember your name.
Can tell you about seagulls and how thoughts hurt.
And of course about loneliness, or throw it to hell.
...
More likes on your crucified soul.
More comments under a clear proximity to suicide.
May the God of the internet accept the sacrifice.
Let the cries of longing night scatter to all ends.
Love fucks. This is probably true.
Love fucks. I see the world and I won't even argue.
But I want them to know that before and forever -
I said fucking love, and then added: yours.
...
Do you hear the signal? It's me.
A lighthouse burning in the dark.
A miracle is for October.
And darkness is for winter.
Do you hear the signal? I'm alive.
Do you hear the signal? I'm here.
I'm waiting among the stars of strangers.
I. Absolutely. All.
This is good news.
All this is a good sign.
Here silence is like a song.
Come true, let not us.
Do you hear the signal? I am waiting.
I wait and love you.
I believe it knocks for good reason.
I believe - they will not break.
...
The phone will be turned off, the subscriber will be unavailable.
The snake eats its tail and cannot complete the circle.
We are drawn to the sky and the cherished one to get a star from there.
But you're awkward, and now she slips out of my hands again.
Like soap in a prison shower, then they like it
and now you are already in the corner - trying to endure.
I will always stop looking at your floor.
To ask for forgiveness, to feel something, and not to believe in death.
Everything will be fine someday, I promise you.
Everything will be right someday, it's just turns of a spiral.
But sometimes - I feel so bright, so painful
that we did not come true with you. That we have already lost.
Very serious, on very serious cabbage soup -
I will tell you that it is useless to devote so many sad poems to such things
and place on the Internet.
But I don't give a fuck about them, because I promised you.
...
A look at the sky whose names are space, love and death.
My coat of arms is your figure on the gold of the windows.
The satellite flies through the night. The wanderer walks in the dark.
Ronin will leave smiling, flowing down the bloodstream.
I will look for you in a thousand hundred worlds.
I would not have made a choice otherwise - never, even if I could.
I know that I am sitting in my room, in my apartment, and I am even glad of that ...
But please, let's go home.
