A little oval
The size of a been
It's green
And I'm not sure if it's taunting me
Or comforting me
But it's there
Staring

It's hard to believe
That something so small
Could change my big world

I know it will dissolve
Into many little workers
Trying to take the wheel of my brain
For my captain is evil
And they want to help me

Please do help me

I've tried everything else

It is not all about you...
only half.
Half my thoughts, words, poems -
and half of my heart.

Mad folly breaks the chains
Of servitude and dread.
It spills like ink-stained rains,
A bridle turned to thread.

A mind soaked in this brew
Sees shackles turn to play.
False knowledge, folly's hue—
And worlds are born each day.


In Russian:

Лёгкая псевдожизнь "чудака"

Юродивость от рабства
Спасает, как всегда.
Она — большая клякса:
И оселком узда

Покажется в сознаньи,
Залитом сей бурдой.
Юродивость, лжезнанья —
И мир в уме иной.

Ever since I met you I knew you were the one
Things never felt perfect until it all begun  
My heart beats for you each and every day
You make me feel beautiful in every way
I love you forever my soulmate

Secular hustle of city streets,
neons cozen the weary,
flicker with promise, eternal nights,
fleeting moments to wake the dreary.

but 'neath the surface, there's no converse,
only echoes, leitmotif of isolation,
lost in labyrinth of sweet sensation,
loss of life in soul stagnation.

Light replaced by smoke
Further obscures the statue
that white candle-glowed

Hazy, pearl-grey proof
that mystic transcendence is
not light-limited

Not just the statue
or the end of soft verses
or the white candle

It was the timing
The clear-felt coincidence
of pause and darkness

Caught in airy confluence
Secular becomes divine