and everytime i come to you,
everytime i listen to your hurt or your joy,
to your brightest ideas or your worsts,
and everytime i let you bring me closer and make me small in your arms,
every single time,
it's because i chose
to keep on loving you.

even stars get tired
when their stupid brains won't work and their broken hands can't follow
i soar so high all the time that the fall
******* hurts, you know.
please hold me in your hand before i crumble,
i'm tired of having to do it all
by myself,
star's exhausted, doesn't shine anymore,
just needs to lay down
for a while,
please just let me breathe.

to all who feel like doing truly
rude things, letting loose your fury
have an itch to shoot some bullets
all the imprudent bullies
putting yoofs & adults into the blues &
pushing them to that very solution
will do as ones to get ruined
and if you are one
of them, a few words regarding your funeral
[if there will be one]
hope it will be at odds with the usual
it should be full of fun
whether or not that is suitable

you'd be PUT INto confinement
in a lunatic asylum
for posting a pic. some view as being spiteful
[for some info, check the notes]
doing what Navalny
does, you'd pick up a fine in
the sum of a few tens of millions of rubles &, aside from
that, your bank account would wind up frozen
[not to mention later things happened to him]
that's the coward tyrant known in
the whole world being put out sim. to a bone when
you fell down during drunk strolling
better to buttress your front door since
for certain content getting posted
you'd get it chainsawed by ******* special forces
in the dead of night; after the unwanted guests have stormed in
you'd get toppled to the floor, then
you'd be submitted to beating
the whole picture's having your little kids screaming
then some of your stuff becomes forfeit
later, it turns out you're not the right person
they've left with your property stolen
that's the rotten syst. rolling
autocracy's growing

my lines are so plain
that next time
you wanna fly someplace
instead of contacting an airline
you may write my way

got to meet a pedagogue
who might let out of his
wretched gob
some mockeries
something like this
"perhaps, he has a paralysis"
when in the course of classwork
you're not taking
notes of what's on the blackboard
that snot's painting
got to meet an insolent boy which
might start an altercation
since that ***** is annoyed with
3 out of 5 you'd rated
his "top significant" work with
despite the case that
it's simply according
to the teacher's direction

the way I approach time's rather simple
it's a Victorian ***, I'm Jack the Ripper
[reaper]
**** it like a crash-hot spitter
waste it like a massive twister
feel so, even though I bag some scrilla
(about time, blasted zero)
a bad side(s) wielder
hope that that's not till I/hope that's not until I
have an encounter with the
black-tect figure
[scythe; wither]

there's one date I don't freaking celebrate
and even sort of hate
to perceive a certain day of a certain month
every year as a birthday?
frig it, no **** way; there is only one
such day, & mine is a lot behind
that date is just a bitter reminder, do not be blind
with every next year after an actual birthday
it's more & more just a "becoming old" day
that's to keep in mind
you, of course, are free to treat these lines
as some pessimistic whine
but don't think that thinking the way I do isn't right
as it isn't about "right/not right"
it's about point of view
after all, you have your own, don't you?