Everything is an illusion
The baby birds live on my balcony
I sleep there too--my confusion
I read Julio Cortazar
I shop at local Bazar
I dress at the second hand store I drink
in the park
Nothing can be more pretentious
but I fully embark
my emptiness, my fullness and my despair
I sleep on the coach, and I sleep on the chair.
I read many books and I know many words
nothing can be more sinful than serving two gods
Yes, I am so unusual but I am boring too
The Immortalist is in my purse
He is my king Tutahkhamun for the night
he is my curse
my interplanet flight
I drink *****. I am turning hands,
and I am burning my gods.
I am burning my guts.
I am making fans
Nothing can be more pretentious than
to die alone
Sunday Minsk, and despair
and I sleep alone...in the chair...