Бесплатный фрагмент - She miss you
Morning
Autumn is quiet, pampered. Early morning. Anticipation. Deceptive. The past are unaccustomed. Absolutely different perception. Occasionally a predator is eager to take what previously belonged, after 5, 7, 9 switching to childish harmlessness vulnerable. Fear with cold. Chains, a whip stopped the hanging one. Beats in rage from the restrictions of other weak. Sunny. Windless. Smells of rain in autumn. Sleepy, condensed, stretchy. A star among the snow-white linen. Plans for movement. birds, smells, movements in the given. Slowly, with a little aggression, but with fresh air. The day off is started. French ones tickle with melodies. The text of the servants, gossip, suggesting that their solitude among the tables is not disheveled.
Silence. Streams of cold, hungry, bite in, awakening, cutting Morpheus’ webs. There are similar, similar, having a quiet breakfast. By themselves, fascinating, slightly sloppy, gentle smiles from observations, discharges run along the wires, nourishing. Not of this world, or something, having pecked, they fell.
And at the next table they write. Gluing letter to letter. Fingers knock out a tap dance, click. The patterns of the big one on the screen are woven intricately lace, with hints of gray. Remembering that no one ever sincerely loves little men with a feather, by analogy with tassels, they will not shake hands until they themselves rise from the breath of fresh. Funny. Allow themselves criticism, rude with disdain. Until millions of other spoiled people bend the knee, With applause. Those past ones, as previously described more than once by others, will change, releasing thousands of words about their immense devotion, rattling hollow. Suddenly remembering the connections. Walking your character vulnerable. So early, so early, everyone sleeps, shuddering. French silence reigns in the café in autumn. He indulges. Waves of thoughts, one after another, rolled in, splashing. Espresso is a legal drug that bites into the blood vessels, sharpening perception, smiling brighter, immersing one’s own vessels in a state of rest, letting windy content pass by, absorbing the energy of a comfortable night, letting go for a while of care.
“I slammed it shut. What’s wrong with you? A little calmer? Or does it seem so? Does the storm subside a little or does it seem again? Waves of words roll in. Write if it’s cold. And I fly further, maybe my past life affects me — as a migratory bird. A little bit of emotions, upsets, guilt. Playing with the past in messengers. Tickets are bought. Alone again, well, with you through thousands. Silence, I begin to love its shades. Do not strain the superfluous with their complexes. Gradually looking, plunging deeper behind the scenes, into others who smell of strength, analyzing more and more, I find hundreds of similarities in their habits, childhood fears, being in a state of resentment, immuring themselves in closets. They smelled of grayness with suspicion, the chaotic nature of reckless thoughts, subject exclusively to their own logic. Interpreting what is happening, they use only gray-black ones. I’m a little tired of dancing in someone else’s dance. I want your tenderness. Snuggle deep, deep into the embrace, in appearance, but not strong at all. Kissing, longing, with hungry lips, the bristles of the weekend of permissiveness.”
Speed
The ball is in his own worries. Launching thousands of recognized professors, endowed with paper diplomas, with monograms, climbing, sorting out seeds, billions of theories, in an attempt to get to earthly sustenances. Following the rules, setting the bar of prosperity for everyone’s respect. Out of thousands, one or two will survive, will be of interest to the managers of billions, will allow them to get another diploma. By directing the worthy to the next increase in golden candy wrappers, accelerating bloodthirsty progress, unquestioningly leading to extinction, taking into account history — no chance of survival. Destroying an extraordinary, favorably different from the rest in the galaxy, a ball of magical beauty. Some are funny. Like moles, they buy Swiss bunkers in a selfish desire — just to keep their own. Lonely and ill-mannered sociopaths huddle in fear. Having given his soul to animal hunger, to the whims of others, to the worship of nakedness to those who reign. They give priority to accelerating progress in calculations, reducing previously created professions, throwing the next millions into the streets, natural polite extermination, not caring about their training, providing a minimum income for survival, giving rise to the hatred of cold hunger. To the facts. Nobel Prize. “One of the geniuses of quantum entanglement called it a passion at a distance. But the most mysterious and inexplicable phenomenon of this amazing microcosm is precisely the phenomenon of quantum entanglement. This is when two elementary particles that have the same origin or have previously tied themselves in knots of love, turn out to be not only connected to each other (in a completely inexplicable way), but also interdependent. Even if there are hundreds and thousands of kilometers between them. So if you know the state of one particle, you can predict the state of another with absolute certainty.” Simply put, confusing, stupid particles can seem to “communicate” with each other and influence each other, giving away much-needed energy in the moment in the depression of another loved one. Stopping in an instant the chaotic whirlpool of frantically rushing thoughts, depression, panic attacks, fear of uncontrolled trains — thoughts as if abandoned by train drivers. In the future, getting rid of the cynical chemistry of pharma, psycho-rights, often with an absolute lack of desire to cure. The goal is exclusively for planting.
“I slammed it shut. As always, it is difficult, with riddles. What are you talking about? How are you? Miss. When will you understand that for ordinary human happiness you need to be just the two of you? Soaking up the looks. Amused with tenderness. To the point of animal boredom. Yes, I know, I’m looking for one myself. Spoiled. Stupid. Probably not loyal. Soaking up the changing faces, as in the subway, the next arrives after the next. A star until noon in snow-white sheets. Unstable. I drink burgundy, occasionally I alternate with gases. Selfish. Exciting. I’m having fun with the ocean. I dissolve in flights, reboot in the silence of peace. Friendship with the mirror. Showcases with approval content in social networks. So funny and sad, exhausted, confused. Will you come? Really. Fly in. Cut off the excess. Want to. Kiss. Fill. Plexuses. Tenderness.”
Fabulous
Touched? To the silk of her flowing hair. And she? Graceful with a black cougar. With what? With a magical charm. And then? Penetrates to the lungs, forbidding you to breathe without command. Soft shades of eyes. How so? Stunning. Natural with inner beauty, knocking you off your feet. A great rarity. And if? Sensitive care. Sincere, truthful, bewitching openness. Maybe? Cheerful, active. Loyal, devoted. Thrifty and neat. Different. Not to take away? Graceful with curves. Stunning. Driving mad muffled purr. With the velvety timbre of his voice. It is special for its uniqueness. She was brought up with human values. Even? Waking up with languid kisses. Dear, dear. Feminine. Intoxicating. So it happens? Plunges into insomnia. Charming carelessness, filled with curiosity. Mischievous. Charming in the delights of children. Excited. Amazing taste in the choice. Melodious voice. Magical imagination. Read. And in a moment? Predatory. A tigress dominating. Playful. Pampering. Carat treasure. Irresistible. Cat, hot, with an unbending will. Stunning. Mad in devotion, alternating sincerity Bored. Sarcastic to the situation. Well-read, appealing to quotations recognized by eternity. Priceless. Unique, unique in its uniqueness. The brilliance of intoxicating pupils fascinates. So strong? Dizzying. Brilliant. Fragrant. Impeccable in choice. Incomparable in greatness. Fantastic, incomprehensible in its facets. Amazing. Going mad, giving the last. Withering away by thousands, withering. Captivating with delicate features, radiant skin. Intoxicatingly daring. Permeated with sunny Rays. With an implanted sense of tact.
Slammed. “Is this about me? Miss. Please… Hey, man, if possible, count my losses at this table. Bring the bill, you see? And if possible, do not delay, they have already announced the landing. Airport. Vanity. Voice. Parting. Empty, with drops of Scottish wine — also on me. And at my expense, for the next one, for that girlfriend of champagne. I’m flying. I’m running in the next, from the next, squeezed out. Shackled by fears from merciless time, takes away from… youth. I want to remain the same windy and indifferent to the cynical, flying from branch to branch, changing islands with waves, mixing coordinates made up by someone impeccable. How are you? As before, are you laughing, playing around? Your winter is completely constrained. Freezing out the remnants of heat, forgotten, left. Fly in. Let’s chat under the stars behind the degrees. We will exchange kisses, slightly touching the tips of our lips. We will dissolve later in vulgarity, merging, digging, biting. Come dear, I miss you. Do you hear?”
And in the remainder…
Autumn is fallen, unstable to the temptations of the strong. It takes so long to assemble an internal constructor before filling yourself with enough mistakes, crowns, wounds, blows, ups and downs and plunging into a pit of despondency. And again the strong row, leaving what has cooled, unfastening those who pull back, taking more air into the lungs. In search of their own kind for distance, according to unclouded everyday views, inner content, physical forms, large-scale dreams, readiness to sacrifice for the sake of achievement. For a long time, all actions, words, tears with emotions have been rewritten and described in multi-page books. With an understanding of the stereotyped nature of each traveler encountered on the way, with his own personal path, intersecting for a segment of a moment, someone taking his time sniffing, not letting him get close, someone running into the pool, scooping up the whole palette with cuts, the problems always have several solutions, the choice is different. With the comfort and similarity of the paths, connecting to short ones, following the path to difficult ones of their own, it is successful if together they go out to solve problems, creating projects for projects, and again inevitably disperse, having suffered the energy of everyone, having learned the best or learned to recognize the worst, touching what it is like to be together in a bundle. In fact, most of them remain far away, nothing changes, interest in the physical, and over time, a strong feeling that the diversity of models has been explored has penetrated. Heating is different, maintenance requirements are different — and, accordingly, consumption appears after rust strikes, regardless of the perfection of the shamans. Being unaware of how deeply I penetrate inside. The game always begins politely, with a smile, without vulgarity and hints, simply and humanely, without thoughts of how…
And what about the remainder? A piece of memory with pictures of eccentricity, thinking about a man’s embrace, in a heap of disordered thoughts, the absence of a book under the pillow.
And what about the remainder? The other one will remain fiery, having crept in from the pages of Hemingway, wild bright predatory, penetrating like a cat inside, enveloping with sparks, with madness of 0.5, and cynicism smelling of feigned confidence, of ridiculous permissiveness.
And what about the remainder? She, offering traps with the interests of the night, by her actions in the mishmash awakening only the predatory, silent with fear, silence, inappropriately uttering the superfluous, with a core, manipulating the external, pretending to be different, exclusively for her own pleasures, awakening mortal boredom, with black and gray profiles, with selfish, superficial, stupid interests.
And what about the remainder? It will remain unusual, special for the market of manufacturers, with an overestimate. Still admiring someone else’s fog of content, someone else’s clang of high-speed mustangs, curtaining the envy hidden under thousands of covers. She has not been trained to protect herself — to protect her with her palms. Once again, missing, not noticed for a fleeting cup. Only the whip and the pedal was pressed, fears and eternal breakdowns, inherited, only aggression turned into something special, from the heat of the flame exquisite forms were acquired. Fading over time, floundering in its own puddle.
And what about the remainder? That. Fiery, unbridled, snow-white, belligerent, turning into a purring cat in moments, continuing to search for pleasure on the ball, burdened with external fears, crammed inside with sticks.
And what about the remainder? That. Other. With childhood as an adult, with thoughts spied on, the showcase version is simplified to the maximum, the external shine with scales with charms.
And what is left? Nothing changes. Drawing from the content offered by recognized writers of the past, they offer to switch the perception of reality with icy glasses of old alcohol. Ridiculously praising certain ones, instilling confidence about behind-the-scenes contracts with manufacturers. The truth beats against the glass, scattering feathers: the hopelessness of the ebb tide, it is not written, there are not enough geysers to start the engines. Not funny, not sad, just silence. The places are favorite, the order for repit is long. The following movements are planned. So the weather outside the huge windows without surprises, offers a sunny salad, adding coolness for taste, weathering. It’s funny, the hired characters, in fact interested in new breakfasters, shamelessly smit, gently hinting at the undesirability of the presence of new ones. To amuse yourself with the circus, offering an awkward character in return, watching the reaction of the chirpers — nothing serious.
Slammed. “Announced for landing. Waiter, bill. Write, write, heartfelt… When only for me? On the understandable, without… On the IZ, it is impossible without connecting additional processors for comprehension. Moreover, gas with caviar does not allow you to concentrate. Thought. As long as my fish Dory is in my memory. I caught myself scrolling, or maybe I don’t need to think deeply with you, but on the bark the norm comes, something in the moment touches, captures, captivates, burns, laughs, pampers, something incomprehensibly superfluous spills out, if there is a desire — I will come back again, and now on the same wavelength it turns out to surf with you. Amusingly. Yes, a bottle of champagne is also mine, consider it. I’m trying to change the external, to occupy the internal with slightly different thoughts. I’ve chosen a fabulous place for myself, I’m flying in anticipation of magic. I’ve fallen in love with the reviews of my friends, I’m lost, like a little girl, in the Hello Kitty store, among the photos. I’ll digress. Why are you silent? Yes, I’ve been invited. I’ll try to distract myself from you. Yes, I miss you. Yes, it’s not eternal, exchanging physical pampering for candy wrappers, not letting in the superfluous. that I feel your waves in the distance… I touch my lips to the prickly… inhaling the smell of her own body, hiding in her arms, kissing her fingertips. Yes. Simply. I missed you.”
Mud
Autumn. Stupid. Rainy. Upset. Unbalanced by outbursts. Sounds of a harsh howling, northern. Slushy with minus tears. Softening for a moment, then gray again into despondency. More painful. Cold blows inside. Hurts even less externally. Hunger of the target in the prior. Suggests a refined response to the possible. Goals are outlined. Paths are outlined with rough strokes. Fogs of interpretations. Sublime invincibility, although history says otherwise, some four hundred moments ago. desires for greatness, rediscovering dusty chronicles, history is ruthless, erasing the feigned for a thousand years, putting new empires on the map. The desire to elevate prevails in every scepter holder, on both sides. But it is a rarity to find among them one who, by exalting himself, improved the education of his subjects, who smelled of creation. Clanging. Depression makes its way through, devours the mind with stench. Taking into service the next ones with the appearance of cheerful people, with expired certificates of healing. How can you cure something broken? Born in fears, shivering from any sounds that exceed the decibels of a whisper. Glue, tighten the destruction with cables? Slush, dirt, emotions. Generation. Fortress? Just ossified habits. They were brought up from childhood under oppression, a meat grinder under the pressure of leaders. With age, they seek and find idols drowning in the shine of rented gold, similar to those of the past, crushing, grinding. Without them, it is uncomfortable, cravings, boredom without pain and humiliation are unusual, hunger without the absence of dirt. Having found it, they will continue to serve, complaining about their difficult fate and the injustice of their idols. Knocking faceted, on stools starved. And again at dawn, putting on a cheerful face. Thousands of unsuccessful attempts to please others, feigning attention mixed with jokes with nonsense, saturating them with their own truthful lies, bursts of suffering, feeding afterward, swallowing, without chewing, like a hungry animal, self-pity, and then again hunting in a pack with predators. Politely neglecting sympathizers, with their inopportune influx of human actions. Not all the lashes of sarcasm have yet been laid on the mark, the night is still raging with mold, not yet fully saturated with mockery and neglect, the mad flesh asks for torture again and again. Sobs are muffled by autumn howls. How would they get out? Shopping. The delights of Grey Friday. These are dresses of successful faces in a plague boutique. The collection has been updated. Spoiled. It is striking about thebreadth of facial expressions, today everyone is at the promotion, all of the latest plastic ones are a collection of minimalism of harmless botox injections on sale, the leftovers are declared at the price of the previously cosmic one. smile for social rounds. Dolls always like to dress expensively. Emptiness, only the howling of the autumn hungry wind, primordial.
Slammed. “And I’m a star. And you’re hard again. It’s cold. We have a deep night. A spoiler splashes, flirts with me in waves. I miss your kisses. Your lips with a Scottish smell. Your own to the thread for your own quilted soul. Strangers parade nearby, demonstrating cubes, others — opportunities, still others — just unceremonious Neanderthals. True, I miss you. I want sincere tenderness. Tips of your fingers on the neck, I shudder. I drink, it’s easier to meet the sunset for a while alone in a noisy company. for privacy. My boredom is my only devoted friend. I want you. How are you? Come. Do you hear? Come.”
Want to…
It sweeps so painfully, it sweeps so coldly, it sweeps so mercilessly. Snowflakes melt on scarlet cracked ones. Nostrils feel the approaching shadow of action, but it is still calm in the snow-covered forest. The content is dropped daily for Dory fish, updated yesterday, tirelessly hammering with sounds, alternating with pictures from the receivers. Thousands wander in search of their own dog — a devotee, in his teeth with packages. Preferably well-bred, with accomplished prosperity, with care, with responsibility, with night fireworks, obedient. Exposing the sincerity periodically bought at the flea market, into the pool, where, according to rumors, there are selected ones. In a race in similar windows, in a demonstration of top happiness, strained. Casting floats with bait far away, sifting the catch through large cells, releasing small ones to grow, fluttering with fins, at a given level not according to requests. Although demonstrating to others, they evaluate with the prospect of growth, so there is not enough time to put everything on red. Bites happen, short-term nights are saturated with passions, but without implantation, the line breaks, the bamboo does not withstand, there is not enough strength to hold it, age is robbed by slices with wrinkles. Want…
I want Swiss food today at breakfast. I want to be naked, only wrapped in downy ones, with royal monograms. Wander among the deserted floors in snow-white marble, admiring the rock from the paintings of those who look. I want envy, sincere bestial envy of those hungry friends, former, from the recent past. I want white sand with a reed shack from a thousand, serving turquoise, quietly splashing. I want to spend with insane passion, from his endless map of permissiveness, cheating over and over again. I want not to drown myself, but in sparkling gifts, to bask in, paying in return with sparks of gratitude from the pupils. I want to experience not the vulgar aftertaste of owning property, but to plunge all the needles into delight at the moment of admiration, in seconds — writing out, throwing a label — sold. I want to enjoy unconscious from the cellars with mold wines with four figures, dancing my own to the beats of the guests from Ibiza. I want to enter, pass, fly, dissolve the indecently guarded, in absolute meeting only polite, inclined. I want to rule over those in caps, reversing the warlike, subduing thousands to gentle whims. I want not to get bored with admiration, the desire to admire, the expectation of the next miracles, to have daily happiness, endless portions. There are no boundaries in desires, there are no boundaries in desires.
Slammed. “How are you? Do you have someone? Do you remember me? Will you come? Maybe dial? Write? Am I strong? I know that she is a strong girl for someone, for you. I roar like a beluga, howl from the loneliness of the cold at the equator. Miss. I empty the bar periodically. A serf with a board. Occasionally the kite rushes into blue, I fly up to the clouds, write out, play with the old woman, get by. Adrenaline is off the charts. I drink it again, with black, oil, black. I try to escort random ones with torsos out for the night, in the royal snow-white one — with a star. A beach dog nailed down — bony from hunger, silent loyally, fattening, swallowing without chewing. He is silent, peering into his eyes, sitting next to him under the stars, bribing with modesty, quietly, quietly creeping in short steps. I’m getting used to it. I remember us being the same, kicking snobbery. They threw themselves on the remains of the table left behind, remember? Happiness. We danced excitedly, remember? Throw. I’ll snuggle up to the unshaven one. I’ll kiss you. Bad. Bored.”
Snow
Crackles. Cold. Penetrates, cooling through the windows. Icicles make their way through crystals. A dozen duvets do not save. Firewood is thrown, the flame greedily swallows, demanding to throw fatigue in return. I am engaged for eight hours by definition complete stupidity, after which — to the home on the conveyor. Satisfying the hunger in the entertainment of the inhabitants. In fact, a gear in an ancient machine with a status, which does not change anything for the warmth of the ball. In an instant, slightly slowing down the predatory speed, to be replaced, cynically, without tenderness. What am I trying to achieve? Sufficiency? Recognition. A dozen compliments. Palms, palms. Prestigious place on a branch. That’s funny. I rake out a knapsack with candy wrappers in a moment, as soon as I plunge into inspiration. There, a little higher, albeit with grins, but politeness, without sudden movements, without axes, without pushes into the abyss, not because they were brought up, but only for the halo of reputation. Down there, hunger is still being eaten indiscriminately, in batches, maintaining equanimity at the top and creating the comfort of the environment, in oblivion, turning off the sober furiously clapping, smashing their hands into the blood in desire a little closer, closer, sticking out the rough at the first one. The absolute is at a loss, the leaves of the calendar are falling. Crumpled. Paper napkin, stained, waiting for the trash can. The luxury of participating in third-party decorations, only for a vacuum evening before bedtime, other people’s travels, peeping through the lock with a subscription to the series of a bitten apple. Again. Nobody believes it. Motley advice angers with inadequacy. Upset. Dig. I sort it out. I alternate. Having chosen a men’s sport, I am a little upset. I wake up, rummage through the closet of discarded outfits, trying on another mood for the audience, assuming to be met, noticed, marked. Complete your cycle of tasks on mechanics for a handful of candy wrappers on plastic at the end of the next calendar finish. Friends in pain deep after midnight, each with cuts, pride, ghostly grandeur, devastated by loneliness. I don’t want to pull out the sickly, pinched by their own fears. I drink velvet-tart grape wine. Jogging to splashes. I read rarely, more often I throw it away — it doesn’t work, or maybe it’s not enough collected to perceive reviews. I get offended, thinking, I keep something in myself that still shudders warmly. I cry with the blizzard in unison. I open the windows at night for the fresh silence of the twilight. So sometimes I get tired of loneliness. with a shade of unkindness. I smell far-fetched danger everywhere. The scene is disgusting from time to time, I want it without pretense, I just want to be a little girl, upset, whiny, with sobs, with hysterics, with stroking the palm of a man’s hand affectionately, with simultaneous stomping of the foot, letting go of the barbs from the desire for even stronger hugs, breaking out.
Slammed… “My friend, please announce the account. I’m flying to the next one again. Light, without vulgarity. I’m drowning, the showcases with feigned cheerfulness content are still working. She is in demand for compliments and financial support. Yes, champagne and black, also mine. It’s somehow quiet and comfortable inside, but so rarely. I can’t catch their shades, root causes, I forget about the following. Waves catch myself wanting to inject a dose of horse happiness for continuity. It doesn’t work, maybe with time. Silence envelops my feet with fog. Finish lines are visible from past tasks, any desire requires you to say goodbye to your comfort zone… And how are you? Again, again with intricately intertwined hints, shades, riddles? Aren’t you tired? Maybe it’s easier, easier? Yes, I know, there are thousands of you, so you will turn into dust, losing interest without your own invented rules of games. I still like to climb on the edge of rocky, responsible climbing. I decided to put on a shawl of pride. You know about my actress with pigtails, the hysterical psychopath with bows, the cat with a ponytail. Not that I miss you, but to be clear, do you have me in your plans? Unconscionable. I’m lying, lying, lying, of course, shameless, a fool with a raised nose, well-groomed. Yes, what else to do? I want to get you to me in any way I can. Just for the ends, just the touch of you, dear, eccentric. With rough stubble, with bear hugs, just to dissolve as a girl in the chest! Come, do you hear? Fool. I missed you.”
January
To foster loneliness? Who will take responsibility? Not to indulge whims, but to teach them to put them brick by brick step by step. Who would dare? He will tell you how to behave, answer, be silent, nod, cook, smile sincerely, and not for the right time… Who will implant self-esteem, especially in case of falls, self-respect? By giving them the ability to come up with their own games, worthy of all the way. To endure a pause of silence, a deficit, creating boredom, not for vulgar presentations, but simply not to be trampled, devalued and other synonyms…
I have been spoiled since childhood. All for the sake of that wild fear inside — not to be left alone, grains of sand continue to fall to the bottom, burning out depression. Surges of kindness, with the forgiveness of external cold, gather their fingers in anticipation of an answer similar in state to the given one. Illusory and chilly hopes for communication at a distance with those same steel inner cables. Again about the rake, at the wrong time, on the other end — he has drunken laughter, ringing to smithereens, beats of music, does not go with the prevailing colors at the moment. Evening. Street. The wind shamelessly in obsessive attempts at vulgar acquaintance. Snow illumination. Again steel under the left flashes, a check for a vessel of astringent, a pedal to the floor, a diagonal pedal — slammed shut, dropped wherever it went, the pop of a cork, the sounds of launched content for entertainment. Gulp, gulp, gulp with greed. Pupils automatically immerse themselves in other people’s events on the blue monitor. Distracting from your own, carrying you into other people’s stories, allowing you to be an outside contemplative without touching. Broadcast.
It happens to someone. Strong in the plot, it is a debt to become cloyingly sweet, allowing yourself to be kicked by phrases, intonation, look, more often, in fact, mediocrity, uneducated, pumped. In response, he politely asks, as if apologizing in advance for the restaurant he chose. She is hysterical, does not accept objections. At most, she dines in canteens, in the evenings with fast food in her arms, in a moment she grabs the opportunity to be rude, stomping second-hand. Demanding a dish, guided not by the combination, but exclusively by the highest cetlik, blurting out unconsciously. The vulgar ill-manneredness of the peeping from her favorite, the one with whom she is signed among other millions, affects. Not worse, not better, but a step closer… For how long? Is it allowed? After all, someone has to remove the wet reins to cultivate gray permissiveness. As soon as it is boorish, the cattle of dirt emerges.
Here are the last drops, without hurrying — with a tongue, a little drunk. A sandwich with a black one. Sleep, sleep among a dozen downy girlfriends, wrapped up. Quiet, quiet. Cozy.
Slammed. “I understood less and less of what you read. I understand, I understand, but I rarely look upset in the mirror. More often than not, there is no time. Online brainwashers are fighting for attention, not forgetting to regularly issue checks. The ocean with its servants still calms me, disperses the clouds for me, stroking me with the sun. In the morning, I run with the gold of coastal beaches in headphones along my patron. He plays with me, flirts with the surf, foamy waves, soiling me in the sand, after kissing me, washes me off immediately. Another dog with sagging sides, with a sincere look, feeding, now my personal friend of the ocean is devoted. Single foreign owners serve physics. They acquire sand time. I play the game they offered for privileges, I slowly add fat to fat. Not tenderness, not deep, so surfing on the surface. I also drink red, distract, forget, switch myself inside to a strong one. Well, how are you? What do you have? It’s cold? January. Unashamed. Love? I really, really want to be in your arms, that little one. Tell. There was a surge of emotions, at the moment I was already ordering, a one-sided exit from the game, throw and fly, fell asleep. Maybe it was right? Will you come? I kiss you. I missed you so much.”
Slowly…
Morning motifs. Working days. Sleepy city. The avenues are in disrepair. Waking up a little. Stretching. French motifs. Everything is familiar. Coffee. The smell of croissants for breakfast. The windows are permeated with cold. Observers. Not in a hurry. Allowing others to dive thoughtlessly. Not rushing in action.
Slowly, noticing how he treats his father, with all his shortcomings. With dirty soles, evicting them to public ones. Accepting payment for any action offered out of courtesy. Slowly, noticing how he treats the dog, with all the ostentatious joy, taking advantage of free access, with the opportunity to put the cute in the grid for public approval. Taking for granted the maintenance of a four-legged animal, as if not trying to create and build a common thing in advance. There are no complaints, only a statement of the lack of upbringing. Without hurrying noticing how she melted under the injustice of her mother, manipulating pity and aggression. Slowly noticing how I was drawn to sharing content with fickle, wind-filled ones, dancing, bending, imagining myself among imaginary friends, plunging into pink delusions. Slowly, noticing how shamelessly I did not know how to defend what was entrusted to me, in the next attempts to please other predators, to wag my shabby tail, in fears of my own thoughts, and returning my dear, entrusted with dents, in shabby, in broken. The corrupt character of the servant girl is stupid. Admitting the possibility of ugly kicking those who, with sincere hugs, imbued with an understanding of the essence — obligation, thoughtfulness in actions, reading pages from past experience. A little less modesty, again abandoned with leaves, powdered with snow, more ice needles in the heart. Loud vows, pronounced at the moment of your own confidence, about your own devotion, about choosing a future path without a companion, are dispelled in moments, predictably meeting on services. Fenders tend to get wet and heavy, especially in such a climate. At times, it is like a dove cowering in a passage. Nothing of his own was created, everything was next to each other, from the barrel, allowing himself to disdainfully blurt out words in colors about the first steps of his companion, cutting up the helpless blanks with criticism. Who is she? Who allowed it? A little more — and the predator will tear apart in an instant, protecting its created, still so small. Tears, drops, girlish resentments with a vulgar lack of education. Hush, hush… No one will say anything in response, in the past. They just silently cross out the name from the notebook, deleting everything possible that previously connected. By gluing the label, it is insatiable, alien, vulgar. How could it be otherwise? To wander again, begging for ghostly huskies. Refusals are pouring in like a fan, sand ones are counting down in selfish indifference. Continuing his winding path, going through small ones in the complete darkness of loneliness. It is difficult to try to please with each new one, to tie up any for the future, having a difficult backpack with past experience. More and more often more harshly, more often more intolerant, more and more often less energy to laugh at other people’s stupid jokes. Without hurrying, noticing, the inner state methodically with a scalpel, more and more distant with his own indifference, without interest in the absolute, which feeds, as if a fleeting view of a short film, not for repeated attention. I am covered with a vacuum, comforting myself with a different dawn in colors, with other possibilities. Crowds of settling in their own caves, surrounding themselves with understandable, predictable and comfortable ones.
Everyday. Crises in the mind. Mid-daylight. The winter sun hurries those in a hurry. Recruitment, connection with the similar. Conditioned. Sat down — everything is normal, the beginning is about nothing, as before. Boring with summer burdens the stories about vacation in the tropical, comparing the former one by the ocean. Boredom in it is like cobwebs. Discussed, skipped, squeezed, betrayed sarcasm drops. Emptiness. Exchanged prickly. Wave of text, following about the affairs of this and that, floundering prospects. Having exhausted the possible. Smoothly transferring to the excellent accessibility of a cramped, million-strong metropolis.
Slammed. “Not about me? And I’m flying again. I fly, flapping my wings, I am bored for a long time with people I meet, in moments I expose their truth, the grayness of their true perception is boring. Sadly. But my flight begins to amuse me, I compare myself to a bird. A little difficulty, but so easy to get away from the dirt of the cold. I took it from the window. I want to drink with gas and sleep. And then watch the flaps of the snow-white wing. It’s time, it’s time… I will take my time getting ready — they will announce soon. How are you there? Smooth ice. With a minus? It’s cold? Maybe you’ll come? Come, take the blond dog and come, the ocean and I miss you. Let’s take a dip. A star in beach gold. Let’s indulge. We’ll drown with kisses. We’ll joke endlessly and crumple the snow-white. I’m dreaming. Again. Butterflies are fluttering there.
November
It blows cold. It pours, mingling with ice floes. It hits mercilessly on the weathered cheeks. It freezes in attempts to extinguish it. The repetition of meaningless stories is typical. It circles, it circles abandoned, the last, faded, from that autumn. Greedily under the outer collar, turning the heat into goose. More often, more often you don’t want to wake up in the cold. It’s slippery on the frozen surface, it blows cold. make their way. The mood is unbridled, at an unbalanced gallop, with sharpened horseshoes, with a rubber smile of politeness. Still abandoned, with her own fingers collapsing the roofs of the beginning of comfort, also boorishly cold, indifferent to strangers. By provoking only predatory things in response. Other characters of his closet are for those others, a little more well-mannered, a little more restrained, containing slices of affection. Appearance in the absolute is secondary, until the first sheet, then interest exclusively in the arranged, the presence of inner content.
Stone abodes flash in greetings, with their invented exclusive energy. In attempts to pretentiously change the incompatible, applying the theory of probability to others, puttying the sharp corners of aggression with silence and feigned politeness. The habit of sweeping off the counter exclusively what nourishes at the moment, so maybe it should be? Sucking out the remnants of warm energy, other people’s delights, returning to the silence of the den. Comforting myself with loneliness among the many positive and crystal-shattered on the occasion deeper. As long as there is enough air, climb after the drip with a constant rush of happiness, fun, admiration. I don’t wait any longer. But… I’m waiting, waiting, like a notorious, the last fool of romance. Alternating his vulgarity, kneading on the basis of implanted tenderness. A letter from the past, missed, on the box. Who writes such personal things now? “Initially, I did not believe her, imagine, I did not believe a single word. Smiling at windy hysterics, understanding, he tries to conquer his territory by force, exclusively by all methods. Putting on a fake face made of plastic. He smiled at the explanations, after midnight, barely on his feet, with a broken heel, she could hardly tie her tongue. Hardening, tightening the inner seat belts, holding back the pain at the lungs. Fragments of phrases, stories one after another, repeating each other, not coinciding with the previous ones, it is difficult to absorb lies, requires patience. Stepping on the larynx, in agony, without oxygen, returning in memory, cherishing the period when a piece settled inside, providing unlimited admission, let in a lump of her little. Warm furry hugs, and hell began. Now he could not just watch — he was tired of someone else’s party. Without ceremony in methods, texts, unfortunately, she was disgustingly brought up. Someone has to… Attempts to correct and show immediately, for the sake of cause and effect, to give the opportunity to feel, living, dipping, demonstrating by example. When one-on-one with oneself is clearer and tougher, without pity, on the mechanics. As soon as we are in the environment of loved ones, we allow pity, first of all, to ourselves, and they are in torrents, hail, uncontrollably. By analogy, how painful it is for everyone without exception when dirt oozes with actions, it is not so unfair — crying, tears, screams, the sunset rolls in.”
Slammed. “My friend, a bottle of grape tart and a glass — I will drink red. How are you doing? Alone inside? Does variety shows circle variegated? How tough it is inside. Without words. Happens. It’s quiet at the airport now. Few are in a hurry.”
Smells
Such a mood, I don’t perceive aliens from a different perspective lately. As if pulled out of childhood, breaking pink ones, no longer pulls into the circus. Clowns are no longer the same and do not joke so much, and the jokes are delusional, the outfit is shabby, and I already read inner sadness, there is no energy, they work out the hours, so previously loved. Sometimes you feel sad from new glasses. Developing the negatives of the photos. Share. I am interested in successful cases of perception for the repetition of sensations. Advise. Text, text, requirements, text, text, directing to the desired perception, gradually imposing convenient foundations with rules. Let us take care of the arrangement with expenses, the education of our future ones, and leave the fate of the hunter to the strong.
Irresponsibly trusting, they raise completely different people, imprisoned for their own interests, losing control, falling into hysterics, calling on the strong to impose their own rules. Out of curiosity, touching on the lines of history, the queens raise rude receivers, demolished from the throne as soon as the lion cub gets stronger, securing the receipt of indefinite allowance. in no way compatible with reality. Regular. Axioms. To preserve, to be in sufficient ignorance of thoughts, words, behavior, without trying to delve into the internal, but to use the proposed external, even if it is played for you, is not the point. Receiving tenderness in the moment, soft words with the palm of your hand, paying enough for service, not forgetting to leave a tip, not counting on more. Desires burst out, as before, to enjoy the delights experienced, soaking up energy, exchanges of what is said, lips are real. Exclusively focused on males. And mirror in the desire to be liked. Content that does not carry a pinch of reality, everything is light in statements, but emptiness in essence. Interest exclusively in the brilliant, compliments expressed, presence among luxury. Trusting by mistake. Penetrating, sucking data for analysis, accumulating only to overthrow. The bottom line is that initially no one is affectionate, it’s just that the situation in the moment made you bend the ego as a payment for being next to you — and where to put the predatory? The strongest difference is in the presence, where from ten to fifteen — everything else disappears, collapses, no longer nourishes.
Slammed. “Announced. Pore. Disheveled. Man, the bill, please, the whiskey is also mine. Count faster, boy. I’m in a hurry. I’m hungry. Tastes, smells are not the same. In the shower with hard jets. How are you? What’s new? A little stiffer inside. Stretched. I’ll be glad to see you, as before. I want a change of time. Let’s sit silently, a little. So. It’s surging. And around they are scurrying, scurrying in search of the ghostly. Splashing vulgar. I’m not a stranger to you, am I? Yes, Fool. But not someone else’s? It was empty inside, a little. Washed. This happens to me occasionally, I give up, sink to the bottom myself. Inky emptiness. The silence is dead. Nobody. So scary and calm inside. Relaxed hands, feet in the sand, immersion. Awhile. Pushes me out again. Fly in. Breathe a little fresh into me. Tired. Miss. I want to snuggle silently. Hear? Lips miss you.”
Hanging legs
Rain, snow, a mishmash, changing during the day. The wind is light piercing, the sun strokes with its rays, indulges, flirts with inconstancy. The lips are bright. The tones on the cheeks are styled. Heels are unattainable. A chinchilla is thrown over it. Pedal to the screech of rubber. The bits are completely unscrewed. Move. Sticking to yourself with friends with fake, nodding zero likes, not investing a single bit of energy with honesty, splashing with delight, miring in the fog of your own importance. At the first need for help, renouncing employment, massage, business trips, urgent meetings, global meetings, as empty in content as the unsubscriber. Offers are hung on poles, to the shelter of the unbalanced, with inflated about their own, financially dependent, with shuffling postscripts about the wishes of physical parameters. Enslaved to unicorns, dumbing down the runners with fictional content, forcing them to take out the last thing that at least a little distracts from the corner, to remember that they are just children in the shells of adults. Often, without a purpose, with foam, they defend exclusively other people’s interests, swallowing the remains of crumbs that have not been harvested, in order to drag the tired, amuse themselves with happy other people’s fakes. Difficult. Want. Friday evening, playful, as in childhood, captivated funny. The main thing is to find interest in similar ones, captivating with variety, exciting playing, and playing from the heart, so that in the evening without backs and in a moment you can sleep. Like every game, it doesn’t matter at all, in fact, nothing changes globally from the created movement, not to mention the content splashed out in excitement. Watching how each creature in hunger or in luxury brings humanity, mired in greedy boredom, closer to the loan.
Friday. Distract. Restaurant. Noise. Hum. Nods. Intertwined with the connections of a small polis. New meeting. Staten. Well-groomed within the establishment. The degree affects, weaving phrases with his tongue in an attempt to impress. Sorting out the next rubble of rooms, the sewage collector talked about his sincerity, impromptu reading the lines created at breakfast. a feeling of gray cold. Politely. Changing it to the usual old one. Another meeting with the habits of playing in your own way, purring for no more than 1-2-3 nights of continuous, underwater, deep, satiating your predatory to the fullest, and then it is difficult to hide the present. Distancing. It is impossible on stage without rest, you need a sip of the usual smoke spoiled in those very lungs. Yousmoke your pack of crumpled. Skip a couple of jokes of fitting, similar to the answer, smiling at the similar former habitual inhabitants. The price, sorry, is to drop all the things comfortably planned, and give your dedicated heart to his. great… preserved, sifting into more thoroughbred, in abundance. Having affairs, but not so deeply absorbed, immersing herself to the slightest particle of his mood, catching, as if an expert in perfumery, the slightest shades of mood smells. Exalting them above others. In any case, any next torn flap slightly pulls the remaining heat, but it does not hurt so much. Soberly, without pink drawings of his own watercolor of his warm colors. Yes, ill-mannered, especially in a rage, with the dirty boards of a little girl boarded up inside, with huge trusting eyelashes. Not knowing where to rush when in a vacuum and there is nothing to breathe, continuing to circle in fun stretched on merry-go-rounds, hastily assembled with their own hands. I want a shelter with my wild, shaggy, understanding without words. The market is absolutely filled with sharp impudence competitors, those who are more fond of that predatory, with his aggression, subduing, cynicism, hanging with flasks of sarcasm. How many broken birds need one with a grin, for protection, stupid attempts to throw their bridle, to climb, hanging their legs.
Slammed. “Buddy, bring the bill. For whom? Who will understand? Not all of them, the lines fall out of awareness. Perhaps I need to re-read it, but, like them, I have no time, I am hungry for quick emotions. Champagne, caviar, chocolate — all on me. Announced. Soon. Where is the passport? It seems that I put it myself. Rude. Sharp. Talentless. I spit other people’s phrases. Sarcasm rivers. And with whom to be polite? I read yours, swallowing, thinking, as in the network, in my own attempts to scan the mood. I missed you insanely. Holding my breath. Drowning. Howling. Limbs failing. Senseless. Fool. I need you. With my own… to 2 m, close, large. I want, I want so much to sob, hiding with the top of my head, a little girl. I want to… to make faces like a monkey. To joke with the author’s, to laugh sincerely. Prepare. Kiss with tenderness. Let me send buns. Wake up with an early. Jog at dawn by the ocean. I really missed you so much. To a frenzy. Do you hear? Fly in. Take me, stupid. I want to climb up, chatter, hanging my legs down.”
Little fool
The snow sweeps, beats on the warmth, accompanying the tongues of cold, pierces. Testing with enviable periodicity for strength, creeping up with caresses, the wild wag good-naturedly their tails. Something went wrong, something was not enough, a lack of sincerity, a mishmash of bodies in relationships. And in the past, he was as loyal as possible, only indifference inside did not allow him to provide a response. They brought me up, forcing me to read, not rushing to weigh, I quickly get bored with the regularity of the right words, I want delights, songs, champagne foam, dance, dance with my eyes shut, not letting a single thought with the sober ones. Dirty soles on the clean, devalued by their own actions and attitude. The bass thunders, reverberating in the lungs, the body automatically writes out the learned movements. Exalted by weakness, allowing you to slap the ignorant others with the author’s sarcasm. Her own opinion has long been lost, she is replaced by a breeze among the important ones, there is no foundation, she is forced to bend her back behind candy wrappers on plastic, at the same time trying to subordinate admirers to her capriciousness for free. Continuing to row, row, row, gushing with his own importance. Losing sincere devotees along the way, buying temporary ones on sale for half the price. The smell of the flowers given, sorting, bringing to the headboard those that are field with sincerity. Fatigue. Rare attempts to put on display the worn-out external happiness, and then, sticking in the evening, scrupulously counting empty likes. Quoting lines exclusively from others, spied on, laziness and the limitation of the vocabulary to the lace of one’s own thoughts. Confusion among the internal, anarchy of the characters, alternately captivating power over the gray. No tranquility, absent in the absolute. Amusing the hostess with new entertainments, like jesters, crushing each other through each other. Silence. The next domineering try to test, taming with gold, pulling up, luring with windy compliments, alternating inanimate trinkets. Boredom mortal, malignant boredom, requires a holiday yesterday, and today it is aimed at warmth in a bear’s embrace, tomorrow it is hungry again from the lack of public demand. Gray insomnia is mixed with a howl of hunger. Others of the former ones turned off the tubes with oxygen, immersing themselves in the creation for years. And who will pamper you? Moving away from the shamelessly predatory, having had enough of night fireworks. Launching a short-term menagerie for the night with vulgarity, until dawn, after seeing off without coffee, slamming and again in my own star until late, indulging, I liked it so before, I was as disgusted as possible. Achievements, names, nicknames are not recorded. Getting out, squeezing, maneuvering sharply, occasionally oncoming to the oncoming road to wake up, plunging into superficial companies. Understanding the meaning of each flutter of the outer threads of the webs, the nets are scattered like traps on the branches. Distracted from the tinsel of the air. Fatigue is felt. Fear of age is increasingly constrained.
Slammed. “Bill, please. How are you doing? It’s cold? Miss. The flight is next. Announced. Pore. He waited, splashing. There are more and more cynical examples of couples coexisting. They are cynical in their judgments, washing out kindness even in their judgments. More and more often it smells like sewage in a decent relationship. Accidentally watching at sunset by the ocean, couples, arranging themselves comfortable, marking the boundaries with the number of nods with approval in joint contacts, consolidating budgeting, bed rules with schedules, reset interest from established hopelessness as much as possible. Windy. A little vulgar. Cynical by choice. It is good for its lightness. Tested for loyalty. Funny looks. Spoiled. Sporty hobbies. The possessiveness is wild. Selective in sincerity. Little fool. Selfish occasionally. I only missed it. Will you come? Come with hugs. Capture your tenderness with a smile.”
Are there such people?
You need such a stranger. Incomprehensible. Special. Eccentric? Self-sufficient. Generous. Cheerful. Kind. Indulgent to whims. Not like others. Predatory. Bright. Charismatic. Caring. Self-nourishing. Loving. Tall. Big. Ambitious. Strange? Stranger? Stranger by the fire. Frozen wood of hypocrisy. Proclaiming loneliness, if without similarity. In the glimpses of the fire, trying to see those who are alike, a little bit, a thread, a cell, a little similar. into the fire — let them crackle, but they will dry out. Scattering the accumulated diamonds, they are worth nothing in the complete silence of the vacuum. Only stars, splashes of the sleeping ocean, tangerines, silence with sand. But the wounds that are with them nourish the bandages. He howled coldly, asking to leave his loved ones. Punishing the shameless, predatory, ill-mannered, at the first stage, not letting their sewer stupidity come closer. There are them, strange, not subject to influence, absent in the nets, with their own opinion, without haste, they do not voice aloud, more often observing the habits of others, sifting. Ridiculous are fears, clogging the planks of the closets of the past, attempts to bury, forgetting that sprouts always break through the rubble of cobblestones, fear of dating, fearing submission, no courage. Grinning, driving into hysterics, only to indicate the boundaries of politeness, it is common for spoiled people to break the boundaries out of boredom. Sometimes, plunging into the circus of gallopers, choosing an angle to capture the successful, participating in the emptiness of the, they select after, swarming, one out of a thousand for external likes. They were brought up by shamelessly irresponsible parental invested greatness, significance, lulled by windy compliments, and then, abandoning one, spreading their paws as much as possible in bewilderment, similar to how after the five-year plan of the higher without a parachute they abandoned with obsolete luggage, unclaimed. Stepping along their own path, whistling with a smile. Immersing themselves in the new, testing hypotheses exclusively in practice, turning off their own clues of smells. Mirroring, mirroring shamelessly, strangers, picked up on the go. Knowingly assuming the imperfection of feelings by years of cultivated touch. Not paying attention to the uncomfortable, brushing aside over time, weighing the aftertaste. Maybe he was not right, she thought she was too exclusive, perhaps there were those who wrote their own. But fears also fetter them. It would be hard together, and we would be beautiful, weighed by adulthood or young at heart inside, not paying attention to passport passports, but we are, as we are. Everyone has their own path, and it is possible that somewhere in a dozen they will cross by chance because of the threads that bind.
Slammed. “How are you? Miss. How about you? How are you? A little warmer? Melted. Sun? Not a cloud? Sport? Pages of books? Girls? Bits? Dance? Do you still meet the sunrises? Fly. Sent. Inconsistency. I recognize it in moments. Attempts to buy for cheap. Fly in. Do you hear?”
Cappuccino
The bar is sublime among others. Devastated by degrees, beaten with bats, as if with veins, beef, tired. Fine porcelain, silver utensils sparkle with sparks. A dozen unwashed cups with the remains of Colombian wine, disorderly. Quarrelling, attempts to guess on the squeezed, fondant traces are violet, pale scarlet, pink, carelessly smeared. caressing the lobes. There are no loud words. Fatigue. Sleepy, early, the vaults are zeroed out. Bar, twilight, tones are muffled. The murmur of the words of the tired has ceased, during the night the vocal voices are squeezed out, touching with drunken lips, the tip of the tongue is exhausted, kisses coral, in the cart exchanging in the absence for other ways. Gossipy. Discussing black holes, twinkling stars, manicure ruined, the price of leather, recommended for plastic, other checks. at the bar for gifts and drinks, pay with mysterious currency: “Sorry”, “I’m sorry”, “I’m not interested”, “We are different”, “That’s how I feel at the moment”. Partings are five minutes long until the next moments of boredom, and only when exhausted, another predatory weave with clothes torn off the sheets with languid sighs. And again thin fingers are intertwined, hanging on the remnants of warmth, giving away the last remnants of second-hand clothes. So occasionally there are similar in perception, comfort in the exchange of cobwebs of words, sarcasm. The copper bell on the door peacefully sniffs, silence penetrates the arteries like poison. No one goes in and out, there is no strength. Heavy, unwieldy bar shops froze, holding softness, balancing with balance, exposing the holes in tights, sleeping grays. Those rare moments — thoughts froze, switchmen exhaled on the tracks, tired of sorting out the chaos of the oncoming swarm of trains. A rare peace inside — they switched to neutral. Twilight, the candles, melted, went out. A mess of bodies, a mess of glasses left behind. Love of loneliness. Unfinished, young, unceremoniously red argues with long-aged, single-malt, seasoned: “I am dear, refined and beautiful, only recently plucked. How can I be equal to you? And the smell, the smell, phew, man. How dare you with me at all?.. Know your place.” Not paying attention, it continues to spread, absorbing, merging into one with the blood flows, ohintoxicating, capturing for a long time, feeling that it has not yet fully saturated the degree. It gives off grains. The bar is tired. The bar requires new energy after sleep. A cup of cappuccino, thrown on the bar, milky-fresh innocence, whole, untouched. Looking around with fright — not so long ago cooked. Is it in it that happiness is hidden? Silence. A pile of bodies without energy is sleeping. A pile of brands, views, a hunger for exquisite entertainment. It’s cooled down. Maybe, among others, someone likes a cold drink? Left alone.
Slammed. “Again, as always, it is difficult. How are you? Sunny? Spring? Chirping birds? And I’m flying again. Young man, bring the bill. Announced. Pore. Laugh. And again I fly in search of myself, long-term comfort. I calculated the previous ones. I asked from the edge at the porthole. The clouds are playing with me. How are you? It happens. I read other people’s made-up stories. I started jogging along. Feet get stuck. The ocean is flirting. Young pink lifts. Fire cares. You are missing. Miss. Fly in. Do you hear?”
Rainy
Rain. Beats. Beats. Beats. Shameless. Vulgar. Narcissistic. Peeps. Laziness, shackled mercilessly, does not let go of the limbs. Envelops. Champagne of yesterday is a fog. Down blankets are crumpled, scattered. Pillows cry with the remains of the lip. Tights are torn in several tears. Sleepy. Tired of meetings with templates. More and more among the services meetings with secretive sociopaths, amusingly disguising themselves with the matter of politeness, especially getting bogged down in the codes of technology. trackers, but in general a dream with buns. Shuddering. Bed. The rain is impudent. Coolness on the body with goosebumps. Spring. Special. It is impossible without the feeling of being in love. Pink petals wither inside.
Rain. Spoiler. He is amused. Bam. Bam. Bam. It thunders, waking up, playing its own. Sometimes one touch is enough to reach the first letters, carried away by the lips from the breath of thoughts inside, and there is a gray abyss. On the screen there are a ton of unanswered, similar, lonely, condemned to loneliness. There is mortal boredom. It’s burned there. Without attractions, languid gray. It spins a whirlpool of similar strategies, twenty-four, no more. Aroma of coffee. In an immense bed with a star. Forgive? What do you mean? Not negotiable. Tougher. Slightly arching the back for the pleasures of oncoming people. Massage with obedient tips. Softness. Woolen. Stupid. Empty cries of devotion.
And the rain. He plays hard. He indulges. Over there. Over there. Over there. There is a knock on the tin of the windowsills. Collected things, instantly resetting connections, a new offer without guarantees, but with sweet texts. Risk. It’s possible. But the potential is exciting smells. Budgets. Unlimited cards. A little warmth. The heart is sizzling in the frying pan, uncomfortable on the flame. There are those who are used to being dissatisfied with attempts, especially when they are unsuccessful, trampling to shreds, mixing the best with dirt, spilling aggression, losing word combinations, and then swallowing the prescribed ones. Funny, spoiled. Filters mask the tin of reality, the sand pours down, counting its own. The effect of a puddle, it is known that you will be all splashed with someone else’s depression, failures, jumps in aggression, but you forget and warm in the spring you lead to the rooms, burning yourself in the silence of the wild jungle, and it is in this one that the archived is launched, and there is a darkness of mold, you smile silently with gratitude to the reciprocal silence. Archiving the funny former. And the rain does not allow you to sleep, rambles, disturbs, calls to breathe fresh.
Slammed. “Difficult, difficult, divide the sentences. Tell a smooth, accessible story. Let them spy on other people’s actions, luxury, entertain wandering readers with sweet content. But it’s up to you. How are you doing? Are you cold? Sun? Wind? Rain by the scruff of the neck? Are you messing around? And I have a vacuum. I catch temporary comfort from loneliness. Holding licks at a distance. Swallow. Until the shift. And you? The dog has been visiting for a long time, the one she wanted. No aggression. Apparently, those who will not survive without warmth are drawn to me. Purposeful, with a blond smell. He meets me wagging. He sees him off sleepily. He pokes his nose into the bag. He smells food. The chomping woman rejoices. He wags, feeling like a master in nature. Missing you. Really. Stupid. I have prepared tons of warmth for you. I want warmth, with my lips in the palm of my hand. Emptiness without you, despite the movement outside. Fly in. Hear? I’ll kiss you. I’ll spoil you. I missed you.”
Pros
Now. Want to. Now. Now she was whispering, shackling, terrible, very scary, as if magnetism was forcing her to move closer along her vectors, dissolving herself into a stupid fog inside. Let’s ride. Let’s ride. Let’s ride. The view of the mountains from the porthole resembles rugged life paths, scorched yellow deserts, black mountains with shaggy caps of snow, kingdoms of snow and ice. Walks in the spring rain. Exhaustion without fresh. Merci, enough. Climbing into the catacombs, and then down the bomb shelters of the inner closets. Buying in bulk, writing checks for tons of the white world in armfuls, hastily laying out from the basket black, mixed with gray thoughts, sticky dirt, contagious. On… and vulgar thoughts. The inner dragon of veins forges thousands of aggressions, eats them from the inside. Without energy, the earth is shaky, there is no energy, they cannot blossom and develop, they only suck up, scoop up and climb the steps with their palms torn in blood, a soul saturated with sarcasm.
Easier from afar. It’s easier not to touch with expectations, hopes from the words spoken. When they see each other, the magic of the warmth preserved in the memory of a person will disappear, because there is always warmth about the past.
Bell. Nocturnal. It is possible that on the last exhalation. Even if it crawls dripping, they will not open, drowning in amusing pride. Millions are sent into darkness in the hope of falling into a similar state. Deja vu. At the fence there will be no one who trusts, the same foolishly proud. Some, all my life I have been looking for a father. Not in the sense of snuggling up and whining to him about problems, but in the sense of being an example, advice. You will smile, but there were several of them. After outgrowing them in his development, it does not mean at all that he achieved more. Observing, repeating movements, words with emotions, understanding over time what their gold was worth, that the human was given as a tribute to luxury, comparing the paths comfortable to my heart and comparing them with theirs.
They were found, they gave them the opportunity to earn and grow for them, certainly not for money, but to be praised, even just with an approving nod. Not being a freeloader, bringing prey from the forest to the throne, satisfying his pride in his luck in hunting. Hone his hunting skills, choosing a larger predator. The interest is only if there is a benefit to multiply candy wrappers. Human interest has been nullified. Hunting goes on according to all the rules: bait, traps, bored steel shot waiting for a shot, the silence of the birds hiding. And then silence, the exceptional indifference of the vacuum. Over time, it does not touch at all, understanding the threads that bind, forcing smiles to pull for profit.
Slammed. “It’s difficult. How are you? Play? Are you messing around? Aren’t you tired? Will you come? Miss. Other cons? And after? Will you finish?”
Jigsaw
Friday. Homeless rain is trampling. Muted tones. Flickering candles, thin threads of silence and romance. Packs of invitations in messengers vibrate, similar ones advertise entertainment. Voice with strained delights. Getting ready. Lace. A little platinum. Sapphire will add sophistication. Strict. Heels are unattainable. It’s time. Bits were cooked to the stop, whipping fatigue. Bar. Glasses first, getting used to it. Flirting is light. Non-committal. Exchange of sarcasm notes. Attracts elastic, reciprocal. Boredom. Evening. own entertainment. Ocean. Mountains. Stars, with black hollows. Drops of degrees make it clear that, in fact, by applying the theory of probability, there is no chance of changing the essence of what is happening from one’s own lever, which affects the speed and quality of the ball. I drown, laugh, create patterns in a mixed dance. Fears are diverse, they stick to the ugliness when moving a little away from the verified, predetermined. Drink? Grape-burgundy flow down the larynx, lingering on the villi, exciting the receptors. I drink with pleasure. Following trends with the tips. Bursts of exciting general news. Discussing, dissolving in other people’s stories, saturated with crooked hyperboles to give the sophistication of tears and suffering. Drip irrigation is required for the best. Nods smell of compliments. Random are not accidental. Words are automatic, in response to counter. We know about mutual predatory loneliness. Everyone present has the final disappointing diagnosis of brainwashers in their pockets or purse. demands to break free, to tear the veil thrown over. Without unnecessary words, it is chartered to him. A little more pasture, exchange of words, observations of the connection of cobwebs for the future. The Road to Physics. The night is full of neons. The acoustics from “Bose” with bass do not allow the arteries to sleep. A little tiredness. We change the route, turning the Meshlinov ones towards us. It’s easier this way. Sketching out forecasts for waking up in the morning. It is easier to see him off, after the middle of the week to cross paths for the return of a necessarily forgotten trifle. Remaining in the comfort of her own, than, like crumpled with… Dragging through the entire tired metropolis sleepy. Kisses, biting into the blood with corals. Sheets chaotically scattered. Hills went crazy. Filling the naked bricks of the walls with animal moans. Biting into the saturated with manicure. Lips on cubes. The remnants of lace in passion in shreds. The light of the pupils, shuddering, froze, in fractions of seconds soaking up the picture of the completion of pleasure. The next drops of predatory energy were selected. Subtleties. Crumpled. Wrunken. Exhausted. Exhausted. Stomach demands to be filled with new proteins, carbohydrates. And silence is also required. Five in the morning. Sleep. Things with foreign smells for armored, neighbors are no strangers to spectacles. Roars or sobs in useless attempts to explain themselves. Meaning? Take a shower and sleep. Burned.
Slammed. “Buddy, bring the bill. A bottle of champagne is mine, count, count, strain the buns, a little faster… How are you doing? Miss. I noticed it. I cling. Like warm sand seeping through. Tenderness is gradually washed away. A little earlier, I received with delight new smiling ones. Now it’s easier, I don’t fall in love with colorful covers, on pause, waiting for a catch, more often justifies. I create conditions that appear with a fixator. Not rushing into the dive. With wide swings, I give myself to the boundless, and then for hours in the grains of sand with a star. And how are you? Not so loud? Not so enthusiastic? Something similar? But it’s calmer this way, it’s calmer this way. Disappointment in oncoming people gets boring. I’m bored. If you want to, fly in. I want silence in warm native embraces.”
Seven
Early. The metropolis is sleepily tossing and turning. The sun is yawning. Rays are seeping through the armored curtains. Memory is watching the tenth dreams. How about yesterday? Why? But this is not typical. Consistently, bit by bit. Gluing together. Friday evening. The bells are restless. The clock is adjusting, there are still a few hands left, there is still time to bring yourself from home, and to plan where! Well, for now, let’s not get distracted. Immersed in the glitter of feathers, alternating, disassembling the constructor of images, assembled from something magical, vicious. The game is its own started for the late evening, the third-party authorities offer their games. On the run, in an attempt to take notes of observations of the flow of those who change, remembering the vital need to walk from the inner closet of the character of each person. Occasionally they break off, breaking, tearing, smashing restrictions to pieces. Who releases them all at once? In general, if you take your time and do not forget about their hunger, controlling the turn, in secluded places or trusting, but hiding them from the eyes of the uninvited, it turns out that it spills out. Filtering in the stream of endless thoughts about the sources of actions, digging into the root causes, what to say, what she achieved, how she melted the right emotions, how she almost broke down, and then again behind her own and climbing. The scars inside remind you of the consequences. Sometimes it is squeezed like a lemon, wrinkled inside, shrunken, but definitely not on a dark Friday. All the usefulness is spilled out, step by step, night by night, putting everything on black. But this is yesterday, and what about the morning realities? A shrouded body with someone else’s smells, as if nauseous from the desire to get rid of it instantly, pops up in the memory in segments, then night predatory entertainment, with actually from the animal jungle lassoed. They converged in unison of movements to the bursts of beats, a couple of phrases to check the similarity of the primitive mood. Away with the superfluous, yesterday’s things… Pushing with his legs, tearing, pushing out, discouraged on one leg by jumping, he snaps, called a taxi, throwing the remains of the upper one out the door, leaving no chance for a possible morning. Wash up. Wash it out of memory. Clean. Throwing into the drum at maximum bed temperatures. Deleting vulgar messengers, sending numbers to the trash can of your own dirt. Under a scorching shower — burn out memories. The inner whore needed gray emotions so much. Tired. Sleeping. Chained. Like a hackneyed motif with verses on repeat — for deeper penetration. Only after watching more than a dozen on the conveyor belt, you begin to notice similarities in actions, analogies of generosity, repetitions in attention, partly from upbringing, but not a fact. Bar. Wound up. They click the buttons of the remote control, more or less suitable, without thinking, as soon as the puzzles do not match, they ruthlessly switch their attention to the next one. Forgetting completely about what was carried out, gifted, reset and crossed out. The presence of an internal zoo, characters living in internal closets, cannot stand it. Realizing this, carefully walking in the dark. Fears of becoming a white crow. They are branded with templates, proclaiming convenient theses about the integrity of perception, moods, the sequence of desires, and goals. Shameless books allow you to turn on your head. Plunging a little deeper into Swiss studies, consistently discarding the stupid tinsel of public judgments, gluing fragments together, revealing abandoned, trampled works of manyyears of research. Wonderful, without condemnation. With confirmation of the presence in each of them of at least seven internal, diverse characters, and even more so with different views, monologues, actions. Surfing the waves of universal values in this segment, not shining on the territory legitimized by the content of society. Secretly walking the hungry, in inner closets on chains, so as not to fly off gears completely. Millions let out the dust of politeness, care, caresses and other tenderness… Undeniable, and it is present inside, but not 24/7. In moments they get used to it, feed on, are selfish in scooping it out, leaving the breathless from the latter to gain psychorights, to swallow. Driving themselves into a corner of dullness in an attempt to please, to avoid aggression, quietly howling alone from self-pity, fatigue. Sometimes tearing their hair out in hysterics. Climbing under a biting icy shower out of despair, shuddering. Swallowing tons of ice cream, cold sweet. Sticking in silence into the screen, staring a thousand times earlier than the revision. Throwing sedative capsules into myself, I drink again and forget among the duvets with pampered pillows.
Dawn is always inevitable. Cynic, without politeness. Pore. Suit, heels, bright lipstick, espresso, keys to almost five hundred horses with a bell. Gathered for the next call, a series of meetings, forcing the thousandth mechanism to act, create, implement, sell, master, distribute, report, pamper itself.
Slammed. “And I have different ones inside? But still not for everyone, it is difficult. Or maybe you’re right, one of them is hungry for you, eager to give up everything and take tickets to you herself. The rest restrain, break, slap on the cheeks, shackle. As before, here are among those with whom it is dull and sick from the repetition of days, conveyor nights. Okay. Everything is moving in its own course. How are you? Mood? Do you miss me? True, I missed it. Fly in. I want to hug, kissing the unshaven. I’ll treat you to tuna sashimi. We will read, throwing our legs over each other. Chatting incessantly in the evenings, and at dawn for a run on the gold of the sand spit, barefoot, smiling, flirting with the ocean, urging your four-legged blond. To fall asleep together is happiness, embracing, tired of a sunny day.”
Spring
The screen ripples all over the wall with silver, I’m tired of flipping through it. The book is discarded, the corners of single selected pages are bent, for a possible dubious return. The emptiness of a glass of velvety-burgundy wine to relieve a series of painful pains. The numbers of the present are on pause, not accumulated enough, do not pull into the current one. Going through and dialing the numbers of the past with their fingertips, they give off silence, vacuum, rejecting the cat’s mood of purring. Reading emotions from a distance with your nose. Lack of a degree of boredom or the presence of alternatives, present nearby, at the moment. A ridiculous lack of reciprocal attention, the offer of the game of this evening has been reset, for the next one I am not interested. The wind bursts into the open in search of profit, rages, sniffs, smells of coolness and freshness, quickly gets bored, curls up, slams shut on its own. The body is disobedient. He likes to be capricious, under exorbitant loads he does not always withstand. He complains, whines at first, and then falls off piece by piece. The injections are burning. The doctors in white are filled with fears. Complete indifference to oaths of help is washed away by the routine of a series of crumbling ones, the worries of everyday life are clogged, and energy is not replenished, as before. Not everyone, there are white ones… In his arms from the bed, creaking his roots. So it has already been, and the current patience will pass. Having spoiled it in this way, the shell gets used to tenderness. Taking liberties, he can talk about fatigue. Swallowing white pills with squeezes, we get rid of external pain, leaving the remnants of the internal pain. Hush, quieter, the echoes of excessive loads give harsh consequences. Everything will pass. A deep sleep. Breaks in awakening are painful, any movement reeks of moans. The environment is often short, demanding an immediate reward for service. Orders and demand for moments, and then fall into depression without constancy and certainty. Without exception, cynically and without modesty, independently praising their own missing qualities, hoping for a check accidentally dropped for them. Self-pity — don’t make me laugh. The cry is silent, gnashing from its own pain, drowned out by the parallel of sounds with pleasures. Feeling the unhurried steps of the keykeeper, the servant of the order, the closet, with various characters. Amazing intolerance, breaking the shackles of chains, tearing the bolts of the doors from their hinges with roots, released. In such holes, we walk exclusively predatory, digging in with our lips and teeth. He will send it. He is mad. Requirements of food, speed. Subordination. Brushing aside curtseys, pounce to satisfy hunger. Having had his fill. Switches are triggered, releasing a balanced calm. There are no quick prizes from the plan, there is not enough breath for a long one. The night is mocking, endless, piercing the physical with sharp pain. Terribly long, dark. The outer shell is merciless, constantly throwing introductions. The wall clock strikes, giving off a sledgehammer inside. Deep midnight, not enough liquid, pink villi contribute to transparently tasteless swallowing with greed. Pass. Spring flirts, indulges. Patience.
Slammed. “Bring the bill, please. Whiskey, chocolate and the rest — count. Announced, it’s time. Flight. Features of intolerance to vulgarity. Sleepy. How are you? It hurts? And I missed you. I feel our rope at a distance. I want to laugh. Take care of you. I’m used to it. Appearance is so unimportant when you find your own. Kiss, climbing up, feel small. Joke. Taking away pain, putting your palms to it. Order sweets, coffee with Colombian sweets. Looking into your turquoise eyes, reading without words special desires. I missed you so much…”
Lung
Early morning. Loads with your own weight. Cool shower. A day off, given to lace. Sleepy. The ability to allow yourself not to… consonant with everything, but with its own waywardness, but similar in puzzles. There is one who is disheveled after sleep, looking out from under it, already smiling. Sings in a whisper, caresses with the tips. A record with French love refrains, penetrates slowly, calms down. A funny ability to laugh inappropriately. With jokes for a thousand, often unconsciously, just to please you. Colombian drinks are filled, strewn with cakes with hot bitter chocolate. Embraces of meetings, squeezed. Words, words in streams. Soulful, penetrating. Eyes insatiable, intertwined with eyelashes. Boring of the fingertips, especially the little fingers are hungry, intertwined with tenderness. Curling in streams, drops on the palms. Today they are stuffy, they require those special ones to satisfy their hunger. Satisfied with what has been said, heard, saturated to the brim. The physics of bodies invigorates, squeezing to the brim, as if from a metal tube, all the energy. Caress, changing masks, sorting out the situation. The glitter fascinates, turning off caution, luring. The waves of the oncoming wind whisper, shake, drive, urge, filling the fabric of the sails, lifting the mud from the bottom. Tearing the blankets of laziness from the anchors. People around are running, snatching the remnants of food at speed. Bending, they squirm, betraying their own oaths for a gnawed bone, hung with tags, exalted by someone in glossy ones. Full of artificial charms, in search of applause from the right one. Many are too strong with the declared price, they run out of steam from the frequency of changing collections. Mystery is cheap. Funny, funny. Put on the first five to seven with friendliness. After that, it’s not the same, it’s not like that, you get bored, you want scarce, rare. Elastic, sharpened in looks. Confidence shines through, he feels so.
Five minutes before… Playful, jokes with kisses, indulging, eccentric, dancing in lace to French melodies, feeding on a smile from the cheeks of my relatives with unshaven hair. Waving, chirping incessantly. Trying on a dress, exchanging energy with the sun. Offended. Upset, did not smoothly switch to the right one.
At the moment… Silently, emerging for a click, to protect the frightened inside. The movements are abrupt. Words woven from coarse letters. The glass is shattered. Crumpled, dissolving the protruding impudence, trampled, mud-spattered from the latest collection of pomposity. Predatory sparks ignite offenders. The roar from within shakes even the stone ones.
Five minutes after… Looking around in fright at what has been created. She was not brought up in this way and not in order to listen to the base. Shaking off what he had heard, denying it, hastily picking up the torn remains. I don’t want to do that. So disgusting. So not me.
And a little later in the evening… Inside, flirting, spilling through the arteries, saturating the blood with warmth, the whisper asks for a little rudeness. Her lips are scarlet, passionate, silently begging for touch.
Slammed. “Count, yes, yes, yes… Hurry, please. Too rude. The dirt is covered with blackness, you need time to wash off. I was exhausted. They took away warm energy. The feathers were torn out. I’m flying to the clouds in another… in search of similarities. Tired. The strokes are uneven. Temporarily I do not allow someone else’s politeness. It hurts with the waves, and then at dawn it is easy again, I laugh, play around. I miss you… Do you plan to? How soon? I’ll drop the coordinates. Ocean. Warmth. Sun. Smile for me. I get nourished, it is required on a regular basis. I remembered — you love me. I want something pleasant and easy. I pledge to wake up with the first chirp, putting on sneakers with you in the morning, and then in an icy shower with hugs. I’ll make you real coffee with breakfast, I’ll joke around while indulging. I want it so carefree, polite. I miss the rare lightness.”
Templates
The first warm degrees. Morning. The murmur of early birds. Movements of arms, legs. Drops of sweat in a measured breath and a few exhalations. A walk inside the alleys, neatly trimmed, enveloped the turquoise fountain with rare crimson leaves. The smell of morning innocence. The velvet of the spring dawn. Freshness from the awakening of greenery. A shower chilling with vigor. The silence of early bakeries, cozy with their silence to madness. Colombian smells, enchanting smells. The crunch of a croissant crust, indulging with the magic of the taste of unmelted butter, adding the taste of parmesan, ham, greens. There are no superfluous ones. No one cares. The old ones are asleep. The roles were played, everything necessary was exchanged in a moment of hunger, mixing emotions. The future ones were not even laid down yet, braiding slender ones around their necks with a degree. Disheveled. They sparkle with delight and casual stupid jokes. They melt the stiffness. Compressed conciseness. Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sinking into the tenderness of feathers, snoozing comfortably and in moments snoozing. And what about the day? Full of new characters. With rudeness, sarcasm, outbursts, in order to cover the vulnerable inside with your palms. And after? Letting him in. Meeting. A handful of words. Crushing the last tube more often in an attempt to squeeze out a bit of happiness. As if wound up, repeating about peace inside, shuddering at every rustle, screech of the brakes of the past. Afraid to cross paths with the dark side of their own, losing a possible future in the moment. They turn away, paying one-time fees, there is no time for treatment, and doctors no longer give guarantees for a cure. Broken, and the repair is protracted, you get a little tired of constant donation. Let’s leaf through the next lace ones. In fact, they replace the templates of their predecessors, already tired, with birdhouses built in a hurry. Flirting with opposites, discovering the facets of carelessness. Rich. It smells of love. From the screen, on a walk, carbon copy words, actions are licked with similarities. Rarely by honesty, more and more often by seconds of mood. We are confident in slogans that have not been confirmed in practice. Walking the inner characters of different content, masking what was said earlier with unconsciousness. It would be funny to look at the conveyor, template stamping, diversifying only the color of the skin, hair, complicating the language, dots on the ball for placement. Changing in a whisper, fearing, they recognize, walking in the twilight their own inhabitants. The rules of the games are often similar. Falling in love was necessary in the early, without understanding the true rope weaves rotten by cynicism, which set the gears in motion. Outlining goals, creating similar ones in the future, more, but spreading their hands in confusion from their worthlessness. It turned out the way it happened, not being responsible for the quality. Nobody teaches education. Watering, weeding, only when there is free, At the moment, they lost the threads that bind, giving the reins of influence to the outsiders, when they settled their own soft ones. Uttered disappointments: “Excuse me” — are noisy by millions.
Slammed. “Count. Difficult. Did you miss me? Yes, everything here is mine. Announced. Pore. I’m flying to the next one. Do you not judge? It’s funny, your opinion is also important. Lack of necessary attention. Salty remnant of the ocean on the lips, aftertaste. Miss. Unbearable occasionally. More often surround you with the fuss of suitcases, lips, emotions, tickets with passports, in anticipation. Funny. I noticed that the higher the expectations, the deeper. They will be disappointed. After that, they will saturate the window with strained happiness in order to somehow beat it off. Duplicate. Template. The swings of my arms are uneven, I move. Changing pictures. Sleepy clouds, like a pet, faithfully follow me. One. Nothing to anyone. He is not responsible for anyone. It happens. But I want to immerse myself in you, pampering, kissing greedily, stroking, plunging my nostrils into my native smells. Kissing the stubble, whisper. Fly in. True, I missed you.”
Dusty
The violin is pitiful. The silence of the morning café. Colombian grains drive you crazy with their aroma. Porcelain thinnest containers, holding their breath with offerings. The crunch of the top crust of flour delights, and then soak up the receptors. The French notes are mixed. It’s time to be yourself. Early larks. Boredom envelops me. More than a dozen legalized joint thousands of nights. The funny thing is that no one imposed the peaks with goals, on their own. Exclusively spying on the environment with their values, life, cockroaches, to meet the level. Drawing from the lock, they climbed in their own way. Vulgar sighs on a huge walk, I get bored with my hands, lips, stereotyped movements. The boredom of cyclicity. Sometimes it was windy, stormy to the point of madness. Fattening the flesh of the inner characters, nourishing them freshly. Selfish? In any case, the boundaries of permissiveness along the way were subject to constant correction. Changing tactics, collecting cases of friends, with brainwashers. They were shattered, then reassembled and reassembled with the tips, glued. It spilled, seeped out, again silently squeezing the coral, climbing. They talked incessantly — in the hope of working, understanding, realizing, adjusting, pursing their lips into blood, yielding to circumstances. Helped? At the moment, like an ambulance, and then again with his teeth. They burned, stabbed into splinters, kicked, pouring degrees.
Paths of discontent with emotions. Shaking out their furious, predatory things, they lifted up a fluttering white cloth and surrendered to each other again, raking with torn palms. Licking streams of salty tears with the bristles of their tongues. Books are common, pages crease for the possibility of returning after. Funny. The past is in the past, but occasionally whitewashing the cells with past deeds, surfacing to the surface, we forgive the ungrateful. Madness. Gray and hard dirt is difficult to wash off. Pity? A seemingly endless routine of the same words, movements, nods and others in co-authorship. It flew by in an instant. Rules and statuses impose boundaries in words, scandals, opinions. The madness of movement is solely for the amusement of its own, ridiculous significance. Sharika will get bored — and nullify the presumptuous ones, created in moments. Silence. Unspoken misunderstandings are thrown into the inner basements. Difficult, but passed. Upbringing? Nonsense, it is almost impossible to resist the external environment that arouses interest in those who make their way through the asphalt. It attracts you to turn it over, to turn it over, to roll it up, having listened to it. We gathered, stretching out our hands, enough to the oncoming wardrobe, to sort through the colored junk. What for? Neatly arranged, hung by flowers, by the smells of memories. The night is more comfortable in different ways, tactile ones no longer attract. Imperceptibly, the paths were scattered with interests, glances, and various ways of feeding with energy. Joint projects have been completed. Every breath, more often exhalation, is thoroughly studied. Sneaking steps, whispering for other people’s rooms, entertainment, so as not to go off the rails completely. Strangers tend to calm down, they are overwhelmed with recipes, repeating what they have overheard as if they were wound up, not letting them pass through themselves in practice. not letting it deep into itself, it no longer touches you. Those who have to grow up will grow up, no worse and no better, in a similar pursuit of comfort as candy wrappers. It’s funny, the data of dozens in the passport were supposed to provide experience, but in fact they filled me with a penetrating feeling of confusion and fear. Dusty. No one knows at any stage how to do it right.
Slammed. “It’s sad. I didn’t understand everything, but I felt sad. Why? Affected. Violin motifs evoke something special. Vacuum. Apparently, I can’t find a psycho similar to me. She is indifferent to success. Age. Pedigree. The presence of the past. I love it by the ocean, scattered with a star. The surf gently massages. Infinity. Smiling at the scorching one. The dog hides with a cold nose. Be quiet. Light-heartedly. I like to saturate with my own energy. Self-sufficient? I guess. A little more interesting than others, apparently. But your puzzles are not enough. I missed you so much.”
Yellow
The sun denotes its own presence, luring it out, and then gives it to the wild wind to be torn to pieces. The wind governs the city, appointing, lowering, calculating without help. A temporary alien manager, cynically undressing the beauty of deciduous necklaces, exposes the shy. Nakedness is covered by the latter, and he bites in like a blood-stained tiger, consciousness is turned off. With the tip of claws, predatory fangs to the last capillary. And they? they shrink, bend in an attempt to survive, to be liked. The old ones, especially when they are lonely, want to be liked, ask stupid questions about how they look. They scan emotions, show concern, duplicating mirror gestures. At the same time, there is probably someone who is waiting for her, an alternate airfield in full, chartered for the endless. Pause. Interests are developed — the desire to get out. To change the swamp of routine. Of course, it is potentially necessary and there are plans for the future. A short leopard, excessive laughter at banal jokes. Maintaining a conversation, trying to be interesting, supporting, throwing, splashing out like a waterfall what you have previously heard, of course, without delving into the essence, from similar weighed, demonstrating versatility. Cute runs out of steam, it is enough for 5, 7, 10, then she brings herself closer with a luxurious mane, coquettishly approaching, moving away like a pendulum, surfing her pupils according to his interest, amusingly balancing, good. She admires his forms, letting go of kind, quiet, but affectionate ones. And he? A fan. The peacock, stuffed with compliments, fluffing out its tail, giving out its first guttural faces, flowed into its frustrations with worries, emotional sobs.
I got ready. Glancing at the clock, reporting his incredible punctuality. Thanks to the wonderful table, strewn with viands, drinks with Colombian flavors, throwing notes of politeness just in case, releasing bulldozers backstage to level the next airfield for critical landings.
Slammed. “How are you? You have autumn in gold, all-consuming geysers with depression. Wave after wave with trains? And the ocean spoils me, with a crimson dawn on a run, like a naughty puppy, playing, teasing. Time jumps chaotically, slowing down, then again rapidly, changing the greeting of oncoming people, new, forgotten past, I pay off with politeness. Viscous occasionally. Protractedly. Exciting. By the beginning of twilight, she is often completely morally squeezed out. I alternate physics, giving preference to youth, discarding stupid attempts to find a similar person on the head. Setting boundaries for sleeping alone. Obsessive. The ocean, you know? Only it calms you down. Allows you to relax, massaging your fingertips gently. A little less? Waves. Sometimes nightmarish tsunamis do not allow you to sleep. The clang of greedy cynicism cannot be overcome. Or maybe you will get out? Come, do you hear? Miss. Lips on the cheek, hair on the palms of the hands missed to tears. I want tenderness.”
Funny
In search of an explanation for the stupidity of the meaning of uniting into cells, more often emotional support, but this is more often replaced by sympathetic girlfriends with feather pillows, cut boyfriends. A joint project of creating heirs follows step by step, amusing oneself in dreams about raising the best of quality — and of course, this is the most recognized long-term project, which often does not allow you to abandon what has been created at any time. Sufficiency on electronic candy wrappers is for freedom in buns, and this is selfishly solvable in loneliness that is understandable and predictable by emotions. Having mastered the basic profession, without waves, storms, having honed the QA, design lines to a shine, not realizing that tomorrow this will also be artificial. At the moment in the house, without thinking a couple ahead, thoughts on the barns in gray closets, today extolling the ideas of hedonism in the absolute. It drips stably, smells of stability from even a small flow of checks. Alone, with the support of the codes of the region’s rules not voiced at the early stages of the merger, appropriating the joint project for themselves, as if the acquired household was their own, they pick up the leftovers of help from the parents, here and there, the opposite biological parent, intercepting short-term handouts from the candy-bouquet that meets for a while. By making exclusively material interests a priority, providing oneself with a minimum subsistence income. Cross it out. They immerse themselves in the project — the child, recklessly assuming the creation and cultivation of a fully developed independent monoman. Forgetting the basics of the need for male influence, providing a successful practical example of the existence and mutual understanding of parents. Without the absence of such an example, observations of how conflicts are overcome internally, about the important irreplaceable role of the second parent in life. New ones grow without details, and other internal mechanisms cannot withstand the load of the external, breaking what has been created, hidden irreparable breakdowns of the personality. The first inclined to disguised polite future sociopaths, hooked on pharma from the conveyor belt industry of psychorights. After? Do not forget about the functionality of the defender. Conditional need for protection? The rules of the ball have changed a long time ago, there are no generally accepted predators, alien hungry tribes that carry a mortal final danger. There are still those who cannot stand the rules and the attitude of society towards each other, trying to hide in penthouses, palaces, others in villages, forests, farms, families from their own kind, away from the harsh and predatory. Nature is merciless, such is its charm that even there, without a dome, sinewy hands, palms are caught unexpectedly. Predators always take the unrestrained by surprise, testing for strength, breaking down the door, and sneaking up with politeness. Sometimes under the icy shower of the reality of the jungle, with questionnaires skipped in a series on the conveyor, with stupid unceremoniously protruding demands. Must: travel at least a couple of times a year, gifts in bunches on designated dates, height from one hundred and eighty. The hostess is in the garbage: cleaning — cleaning, cooking — ordered fast food with restaurants. Wall of cold. Care, what is it? Without much ceremony, let the green character off the chains with the reciprocal ones. Without foreplay, with aggression, height from one hundred and seventy-five, constant — cooking and cleaning with care, is not discussed. Proven expertise to choose in the profession. Sports with a layout, a marathon from five. Not a log, under twenty-five. An offer for three years of operation, wrinkles, bedsores are banned, categorically. I have been well-read since childhood, I have an inner world with care. And in response? Always, snots, wet eyelashes, a hail of words about cynicism. Vacuum. There is no time at all for another education. Of course, this is only their perception of the world and it can be stated that they are simply unlucky enough to touch the reverse lower primitive side of others, overflowing the vessels of patience, coordinate changes in their usual life take place. Circumstances. Cross it out.
“I slammed it shut. Is it easier? Better one. What do you want from me? Threw. That’s all. It hurts. Yes, I want to cry so much from my strength. Doubt? Laughing? I don’t understand when you don’t want to offend me. I want peace and understanding. Do you remember when you said that I was a child for you who settled inside you? So where are you? One. Yes, stupid. I’m good, right? Like the ocean I can embrace tenderly to the point of silence, to trembling in the knees, but inevitably comes a period of storms, dagger showers, with a hurricane wind, and it is better to hide from my rigidity. Yes, fool. I still fight with mills, I know that this is a dead end. I howl quietly at the moon, drowning in the wet wipes of my own grievances. Night. I will go swimming under the races, flirting with the power of the endless pampered. The ocean loves me. Warm pillows to you. Don’t listen to me strange, I just missed your unshaven cheek so unbearably. Come, do you hear?”
Soothes?
Hush, hush, snuggle up. Soothes? Billions of immersions into your own fictional reality, often accepting other people’s rules and immersing yourself. Swiss scientists publish funny short essays about the myth of the intelligence of the individual as he grows up. Actions, decisions, thoughts, the imaginary necessity of needs set the speed of the environment, the selected projects with immersion in the creation of a cell, their own kind, a tree, buildings. The methods of a series of accelerations are different only at a glance, slowly, bit by bit, systematizing the ongoing actions, content, for analysis, peeling off the features of regions, costs, customs and a couple of other factors, in the remainder — the frightening monotony of human roads. Similar blows against a light bulb in the dark, billions of scorching actions, but not changing the essence globally. Most of them are tormented by a strange run of survival with turns that last from 6 to 7 decades. Managing to dissolve into each other to madness, tirelessly imposing their own invented pictures of the perception of the ball, offering to participate in long-term collaborations. Counting down hundreds of hours, growing up, stupidity sprouts, stuffed with fears, lagging behind from the rapid change of rules on the ball, with worn-out internal batteries, no longer hold more than eight, with the continuation in the night mad. Demonstration of a showcase with internal mannequins, squeezed in poses of feigned seriousness, puts some people around them into a trance of respect, admiration for the often naked. Only after 70, exhaling, looking behind the curtain of the meaning of stay, they put a vague reputation on a hanger. With the relief of filling with happiness, they plunge back into childhood, gathering in an armful grandchildren who are similar in perception, throwing off the feigned, realizing the short remainder, scooping up the lost joy of sparks, in fact, losing in past actions, in saturation with knowledge.
Hush, hush, snuggle up. Soothes? The best understanding is only on practical examples without a swamp of theory. Too frequent resentment, not allowing companions to have their own opinion. Absorbs the sense of ownership. Flapdoodle. Fog. It will dissipate. Utopia. Accumulating miles of silence in grievances, they are often far-fetched. Accumulating advice from the graphite vulgar, the petals that reveal beautiful creatures are clamped, twisted by limited thoughts. Meeting thousands of friends on the roads — kind on the outside, mean with cynicism on the inside. A lack of meetings of evil people on the outside, tender, necessary inside.
Hush, hush, snuggle up. Soothes? It is enough to release a grin at the mirror, give the accumulated predatory rage to the mirror surface, then — under the ice shower, knock out fatigue with drops, adding a couple of extra percent of energy charge. The inner character accumulates aggression, the essence of belligerence for survival, continuation, is focused exclusively on achieving results, and is little distracted by any restrictions and stimuli. Waiting for permission. It is recommended to release in a familiar habitat.
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