I am bored,
*
All that passed,
Did not leave even a scratch,
I was sure it will fade away, the illusion i was watching.
*
It was fruitfull that I kept swinging my hands in air,
I finally could stretch them through the mirror,
and there I grabbed the neck of reflection,
It died instantly.
*
Lust that was all apple-ish, levitated me,
I could catch all the speedy breaths,
Night was near to dawn,
and dawn was apple-ish,
and apple-ish was the lust, which levitated me.
*
That ****** craw made me mad,
I threw everything at it,
******, slipped away.
*
I am good at counting,
stars are falling one by one,
I will soon reach to 22.
*
And yes I am bored.

Those tar colored slimy talks are dripping from your mouth,
She is coming after you on these marks,
She is still the same,
but time is not,
Your aghast wandering is not the same,
the dead body on your shoulders is not the same,
there is no end of this,
and she is still following you,

oh, you can't take this,
it's burning you,
you loose your temperament,
turn around and speak the words I put in your mouth,
"For God's sake Eurydice,
Stop Following me."

then, there is she, there is you,
and there is me on your shoulders.

it is so clear
clear as eyes of a child
the murmur
splutter
utter
hum
all about how windy was the night
well night has to be windy
moon has to be forgotten
to conceive
agony of watching stars' drama
live through the eternal crack
she crushed and smelled daffodils
all who saw that were stupefied
time was liquefied
it was drinking game
gods were playing
wipe out the ends
and **** it up
let it flow in the main line
let it hang upside down
a clear uncertainty

You are continuous,
there is no chaos

Suddenly you swerve, without a reason,
visible enough to ******* the dead guy,
and you start falling,

the more you shrink, the harder you get,

you can hear the crawling creatures all the way to the 10th floor,
they climb up under your bed,
the realization makes you subtle,
you are stopped.

It's dawn now,
you are still flooded with creep,

How beneficial is to redeem your astral influence here?

Whose blessings are making you immortal?
whose paradise is lost?
Can not ask,
because you are phenomenologist,

He has done great job in covering,
you can uncover it,
but can not have it

On your way back you can find some nymphs,
still you are not in heaven,
there is still some crawling under your bed,
and its creeping you out.

'To me'
'To me'
'To me'
'To me'
"Silence", said Dr. Faustus
They want to hold the light bulb in their hand
One is a pet dog, one is a boy
I mean, who asks for such thing?
Lamp, just throws away the light
My neighbor Mary, keeps asking the meaning of wiper snake,
Woods is spread all over, but suddenly ends at my feet,
Though I have two rib cages, one is obviously to take out,
You can hang the lamp in there,
You can reach to the switch if you stretch your hand,
Right after the ledge, there is an abyss,
You can see it under the light,
The window sill suddenly glows, caught it,
Now, to stand, to speak, to walk, to write, you have to light the light,
you can catch it,
If you ask,
That pet dog might be the boy,
That boy might be the pet dog,
As a matter of fact,
Can be,
Dr. Faustus, a lamp post.

I know what I am supposed to write,
These gods are signaling me,
I can not understand,
If I write what I see,
I will be accused of being traitor,
I don't to how to make bomb,
I don't to how to do ambroidery,
I can only spread ****** blackness around,
But my hands are too short,
Can not reach to the eyes above the cheeks,

Now I can understand the game of those divinities,
And I still can not understand their signals,
But I know, what I am supposed to write.

He flew over bridge
And the river was flooding
He tried not to ***

The angels have grown fangs, they say
Oh how wonderful!
They'll **** blood right out of the jugular, they say
Won't that be nice dear!
Yes, love is an epidemic
Love giggles
Oh stop that Mrs. Cliché
What? I am just saying what they say, Mr. Cliché
Now now back to one hammer-blow a day, shall we?
How long has it been?
How long what has been?
Putting one hammer-blow a day on this house?
I don't know some forever may be
Oh that seems one gray hair too long
Leave it be, Mrs. Cliché
May be it is time to finally open doors
I said leave it be
Oh I don't know, may be just the curtains then?
puts down the newspaper we have an agreement,

'no one shall step a tad bit in glow, and may last forever this self-inflicted blow'

But I have hope, Mr. Cliché
Thus your are Mrs. Cliché

*slashing continues of yet un-heaved breath, thudding continues of...

From all around
They come crawling like crease on the bed sheet
Deeply plunged in me, I
Have held a corner a bit higher with my teeth
I should lift my self too
But my abdomen is heavy
And navel is tied
---
After shower
It is ecstatic to burst into flames
Long hairs falling on the ear
Feels like roots in the head
You can fall out if you shake it off
You are constantly transforming
****, rug, beats etc. etc.
---
Now you are expert
In how to walk on water with your nose closed
It is dangerous to keep your foot in the ring
Hoping for walls made out of flammable dust
There is spark in the snap of fingers
Dark cold in the chest
Speed is like snail
Slowly slowly
******* is natural
---
After the morning yawn
Everywhere falls very delicate leaves
I want to treasure them
I'll put them under my pillow
Tiring courting of night is sitting beside
At the end i counted total spinal vertebra,
Total was 22
Still i needed help to wrap my leg around
'Limitless' saying waves you up on high oscillation
Loneliness is blissful
Silence is for you to fill
You are allowed to catch your breath if you can
---
You have to loose width of your chest
In attempts to be singular
There is ally full of black color
Red at twilight
Glowing silver at midnight
They come to see, from far countries
And some princess dips her legs in
You start dripping from her heel
Just like a sweat
You have to leave your blackness on her body
Cause only white sweat is allowed here
She gives you a mesmerizing kiss
You keep unfolding it
With both your hands between legs
Both legs are in north and south
And navel
Navel is already tied.

"The Nymphs are departed"
says Elliot,

the nymphs are departed,
so, all the barbers dumped their tools into the lake out of the village,
because all men will grow beard,
the homosexuality of the high ends of the streets,
is stuck to the heel of that transgender like a dust,

you can not shake your head if you have combed your hair neatly,
and your impotency is revealed,
you reach to the tree running, and fall like a chestnut,
your hands are still blue from the act of last night,
there is no question that you will be accused,

for the name sake there are some shovering forests,
at the every rough turn of the streets,
you can only enter with your grown beard,
there is only one riddle to solve,
"why did the nymphs depart?"

That ascetic is stalking me
From dream to reality
From reality to dream
To run is an explosive event
Still you can control it, if you stand still
But
All the watchmen are sleeping
The temple has an infinite space
The moment was weak
And god is dead
If you stand he will ****** all your hairs out
And you start falling in abyss
Just an hour before annihilation
You'll stop
That ascetic will love you as a friend now
But he is a spectator only
(you can call him an emperor of a surreal, by the way)
You can peek into continuity if you stand on his shoulders
There is no turning back
Fetus can not be dissolved in the ****** like that
Birth is an explosive event indeed
You come out with a heinous sound
It is annihilation, god must come back to life
That's what is in the book
Infinite space is spread around
Time is sleeping
And here is me
Just now conceived.

spit covered sidewalk
buzzing bee over his head
standing ****** poet

liquid red dust flies
in and out of shell
Sea crashes on shore

Imitation of
Darkness smiling, resting on
Time, dropped from moon

Thirsty womb of sheep
Fell out of place in the shed
Say, what tragedy!

Table, chair, and lamp
Hand, ***, light, shivering neck
Beyond the waste land

Electrifying
Cloud wave gathers and shatters
Reflection of sea

Painting hands of you
Touches softly and bruises
Painted hands of mine

Lifts up from the ground
Ringing shadow of the ant
Loses sanity

Runs up the tower
“I am sexier than thou”
Shouts the dancing legs
*
Some stucco mountains
Against hands of guided winds
Terribly brittle

from right across the moment
you watch, see, gaze, stare
with eyes all over your body
it is difficult, isn't it?

now walk across it
sweat dripping like a pathway to assassination
assassination of figurative head of imagination
imagination is *****

smelling words
words of delusion
I think it is psychological said the doctor
so that very evening when cow is red
you open up your mind
and talk to your friend

waiting for him to blink
or at least flutter like a lamp
and then when you are walking to the mess
with hunger that made your stomach sing
with hold on it, you look up
you see a face, right there, next to a street lamp

she sat there until you were out of your sight
she is not there any more
from this side of a moment
you still watch, gaze, stare, at
in the vacuum, vacuum like your loneliness
with eyes, distracting you to all your different dreams

Moon is getting red
as if it's being strangled
my legs are proving the struggle
the night belongs to a scream
scream of a sparrow
in a gut deep stab
by some homeless from the country far far away
who stomps his feet every time you ask his name
she was rather painted differently
or interpreted differently
but the melancholy woman
I saw in the street selling goody bags
with a huge smile on her face
as I turn around the block
it was alley of the gunshot
people talk here in gunshot
gunshot carols
gunshot lullabies
gunshot romance
gunshot cry
gunshot memories
the subtle is the step you take
the subtle is every trigger you pull
bite you lips and
you are accused of being a communist
sad howl wakes up the city
the feeling of being mugged is haunting every lamp
every star
every eye
everything that glows
and
in a quiet distant direction
voyage continues
on a day
slipping into a moonless night

I just want to speak
speak where someone
at least a stray dog can listen
better, understand

It was so unfruitful that I kept writing

the essence of writing is suffering
suffering is like star
star is like your friend
friend who never loved you back

love is pathetic
passion is died
dead is god
god is a myth
myth is a new logic
logic is intellectuality

there is so little difference

I have to die to draw his attention
he's busy carving melons for Halloween

It is ghostly wandering
ghosts are too many
many things have to be transparent
I expected his eyes to be
never saw them
never realized he was not into them
though he owned them