***
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.
