noone picked me off the sidewalk
noone led me from a gutter
to a raindrop shower near driftings on by-streets

climbed the sunny spring hills
and spied how the snow died
then I saw you in a drying pool
and switched over to another tide

dancing when tied
by a tight rope
winds murmur me "grower"

gambler with a tongue
is showing bared teeth
you shout at me "slower"

as I spoke in quick movements
spring rain licked my fur clean.
sopping wet
I'm just a chilly kitten
with a lion's roar and a man's grip

as from the outsides of evening districts
sash windows echo
my hiss and sizzles
theatrical attempts are just white noises
that soiled my initials
on a golden collar

so do you blossom in Hermitage
when you talk that sharp talk
and do their lungs sing
in unison
from their cages mussed in chalk?

by not pointing fingers
you still let arrows blow
from a bow
it's when archers stand on their toes
to sneak into their moms'
lingerie rows

audience of nodding heads.
how do you sense
the weight of a heat wave
surging on you
from a peachy descent to earth

evening date with a stranger
tea you spilled on their sweater
is lengthy but cold
they all gently pretext
close friend's birthday party
here's a taxi driver waiting under the porch

the more I ask them
more pasteboard they bring
and hide behind a crescent

tonight I'll walk by my pet
that's effaced by an old moon
seeing me unmirrored
in wide pupils of a wolf
red formula but green answers

press a phone call button.
if you ask, wait until an oxygen mask
provides me with substance
as hearer isn't on the other side

clipping off internet ties
is often with a swallow of oil.
cutting off an internet life
like lost drafts of a wallowing poet

standing my ground next to you
mute as a fish.
you sense a transparent wall
towered up on my elbows of cement

longitudional stripe
strikes across numb chest.
connived at all hemorrhoid
you dragged into my pride.
what a voice to receive not a thing from

apartment walls' yeller
a nominated storyteller
is not a winner.
pain in the rear

a pen to the front
can ink a million thick books
in spite of not telling

so I sat at a wooden chair
and blankly looked over you
clutching my phone

just bit a plum out of fruit stock
sparkles soared to a dim lamp light
it painted crimson next to the checks
I rotated bulged edges side by side
just to reach the breaking point

observing through wide shut windows
in hundred meters tower
above
when willows fell to dusty moors
how
I landed on a hilly snowy ground
it seems you masterpieced this picture
out of my shattered glass

kicked a fish rod on this fruit's cover
guess tight fishnet returns his fists and *******'s
sugarcoated in seagrass

gates of his citadel placed lifetime guardians
my eyes are on railroad station
in my half-sleep
when trains arrived at schedule
pitbull jumped over the fence
and bit me in my left hand
gnawing young wrist

all along this apartment is filled with air
from now on
laid floors are shaking
and statue of me is.
bit this fruit from an unexamined angle
didn't pass me token
and now I wipe weepy eyes
in sight of stature of you
sobbing in my blanket
but inside I'm two steps ahead

con art in flesh
waving goodbye
picking rotten fruit and
dropping it in a pile of trash
moreso I'm no plum degustator
them acnes will blush my forehead
toyed with you like a child

strong silver line
separates lit stage
and red front row seats
I yank out a smile
wearing shoes
with some room for growth
on cold bare feet

you browse through my costume
tinsel hangs down the laps
it's a friendly grin for you
for me, it's a little glimpse
of trance

acting out my short script
you see it in 3D
if only
you've heard from me
I'm into you as ****t
our tied ships would rift
you won't conceive it

fetch a piece of war
for me
that just won't leave me in peace
catch your breath to swirl it
through my spine bone
in a chilling breeze

exhale and follow my mouth
note some flickering movements
body leans, signals slide
widened eye pupils
depthless blueprints
dry language I couldn't hide

you store olden clothes in rear closets
smaller size doesn't fit
but you're slow to release it
you drip golden particles from under the sleeves
blue scent just soaked in
he couldn't move on

red wine bottles grow dusty
waiting for someone
to slop it all over the floor
I see
three-year race was puzzling
five-star, I still chime you
to slip back in my door

laying eyes on all my sweaters
through lens
you scan breaches in my polished facets
sticked out are
the tiniest strings

busy streets are our checkpoints
same curly haircuts
and same curvy outfits
all facets of yours in a walking men

haven't told you
you booked rent-free place
in my wardrobes
when squeezing your hand
but man, you're stale as bread too

**** you blue smell
from that dressing room

do you imagine or do you live
do you stay or do you leave
do your feet tread nettle traces or
do they guide you to crowded places
do you
domesticate young lands
or do you craft old by yourself

do you
wear his bracelet on the sleeve
or do you dream of a golden locket
do you
speak abruptly loud
so nobody could hear
or do you stuff murmurs of words
in your pockets

do you chase or do you catch the train
do autumn rains
hug the one you hold on to
or do it replace them with influx of others

do you imagine stars
or do you hide in midnight backyards

do you see the holograms
and do they speak
or can't you just tell people apart