***

Came to a park, sat on a bench

‘Cause thought it would give

Remedy… from what?

I do not know exactly,

But for sure that not from insects

Which are biting me while I am writing,

Because they make me feel that

I’m not empty

By stealing my red wine.

The point is,

I do not like the taste of it

And more than that,

It makes me sick

That even now I’m trying to deny…

I don’t know what to write.

I’ll make it quick.

I mean, will change the theme

Which helps me to continue if…

What?

Again I’ve lost the line of thoughts

Because there’s always one annoying

Me intruder

Who will keep saying in my ear

His name or

Her, to be exact.

That’s good and

At the same time piece of crap

With which I wash my thought,

In order to wash down her image.

I do not want to meet an end inside this rope…

But

What else I’m left

While trying to deny that...

No!?

She’s not! Oh, God!

It makes me ruined

By her thoughts that

I!

That I have got

And now cannot get rid of

Truly humanism of hers

With which I was injected.

At first had seized,

Then it got worse,

But now, without pills,

It feels!

It feels like I have lost

The part!

With which I’m, yes,

With which I’m now apart

And tired am I,

Tired!

Of crying, of dying in and

Out

Side.

I thought that it would pass,

But it as kept as now it goes

Sliding,

Stretching everything that

I remember.

And in these moments

I despise my mind,

Not the heart,

Oh no!

Its cameras, as my two eyes

Are…

Blind.

And why did I think that

My heart was live?

Yeah,

Like a human it would drown

And die!

But

I

Am not

My heart!

As well as

It’s

Not

Mine!

It’s just a muscle,

Now I see it clear.

Even in dirty glasses

I am wearing.

And in the past I told

That now I am denying;

“The heart is

A

L

I

V

E

!”

Oh, that is the umbrella

And the standing in the rain…

I have understood

That once have lost;

It’s better to be in the rain,

Wet,

Than in umbrella,

Wetting there from

Your

Own

Cries

At most.