Cold in my body and words from chamber privacy
My opinion went on a tightrope and nobody will need it.
The lights went out, dialing numbers, call forwarding.
Someone will like it, with convenience they can go further.
Waiting for years, only lines with a reference to infinity,
comfort by stocks on night buses.
Stapler nailed to a stool, under the wing of the lady of eternity,
An unknown person woke up, missing.
You are all so honest, only in fact distorted in the corners.
There is dullness behind the wall, everyday life in the house, Soviet stamps in the bathroom.
From the hopelessness of the dormant state, the speed is zero kilometers.
and the distance is inaccessible to the eyes, insufficient lighting of the lamp.
You have real stars, I have painted, screen clippings.
In a room a stranger, felt uncomfortable, stretched by pixels.
Already with other thoughts, there was a mistake in the tickets on the plane, they reached dawn.
puppets in the theater in zero gravity, thoughts are confined to the gallery frames.
At the table people, voices heard from the streets in a deep coma,
in cars slouched, storms chic attracted in a big way,
I hide the corpses, correcting the recitation of the crooked mirrors in the room.
I fall asleep again, sacrificing myself on the altar, confining myself to the finale.
All this seems unusual to me, but ordinary for you.
There is enough space for everyone, I have two hands of five fingers, pops.
I’d grab onto the edge, measure the remnants of bread with crumbs,
enough for a three-volume edition, the pages already seem wet.
I look, smile, and there are not enough facial expressions in front of the mirror.
I don’t know you, I didn’t call you, I’m stuck in a paragraph, to get out.
A piece of glass with reflection in gasoline on the sidewalk is so simple
And someone lost, and someone even found a couple and are happy about it.
You have fits of rage, and I have indents with commas from memory.
You appear in the cross process, but it reminded me of the past.
Your photos and stamp on stamps seem familiar.
In the arches are your phrases, no one reads them, darkness in the visible zone.
Yours is not popular, but I like it, and I saw it all somewhere.
You can’t relax, go and shout into habit.
On this, all spiritual ups and turns will end abruptly.
Attacks of vomiting, needles on the body, and to the touch an abyss.
I leave a handful of empty slots on the tree, play in my years.
I now have other concerns, I burrow like a mole and do not see the light,
dissolve in the frame, the voices from the radio seem offended by something.
With the first rays of light, see you on the platform, and I will say hi.
