Утро После

The morning is burnt with the red colours.

The black of the spades prickles my lungs.

The puppy-dog feet have spattered the diamonds.

I have discarded the ace of hearts.

The flame in my veins is so eternal.

The long sea voyage is promised to ships.

If you only knew what this all is made of!

You`d better not. You aren`t ready for this.

The pain soaks through my strain tensioned nerves.

The blue blood is poorer than the bright-red.

I am no person, who likes to deceive.

But I`ll look joyful, though I`m sad.

All our smiles will take winter frost.

Not to think. Not to know. And not to admit.

This feeling is blowing my brain out like a shot.

We`ve been running away from each other.

And... mixed.

2017

The Wormwood

Don't think of me in the past tense.

I will not leave; I will not pass away.

I`ll take your soul into my cage.

Inside of your heart I`ll find my place.

As if wormwood I`ll sprout among the seedlings.

They are effete; I am the hardened weed.

Whatever happens, it just does not matter.

You burned me hundred times, but did not succeed.

Don't think of me in the past tense,

I am your blood. I am the impulse of your will.

Forgive me. Do not feel offended.

Once you`ll discover pain I have concealed.

2017

The First Snow

There will be no "we" by the winter.

Crazy blood will be appeased.

The corpse of our love will be cut by a locomotive.

So many times, I repeated that this feeling is no love,

So many times, I tried to escape for the sake of some quite.

So many years it has been lasting, it burnt.

My eyes were as heavy as lead with the alcohol tears.

Disinfection of wounds. Doors are bolted from the inside.

Chloroform to forget. And some rage to release.

Not to be reached, I choose to be drowned.

Through the thickness of water, I am petted by the Moon blade.

The face of the Moon doesn't heat. That is no love.

... However, what does not exist alas cannot fade...

2017

The C old Summer

I am grateful to you for this cold summer,

For my chilly hands, dead love, and despite.

Thank you. I am swamped over with the snow,

I`m warped with the sorrow, and I`m fed up with ice.

I am grateful to you for this freedom of choice.

The northern pole. I can choose either direction.

Thank you for free chance to be burnt with passion,

As this lustful night I`ll be losing my voice.

2017

The Hidden Secret

I know one hidden secret:

You have bound somewhere yourself.

Free yourself. You`ll find out the treatment.

Everything that you loved - you`ll forget.

2017

The Conclusion

We are two nobodies, we`ve become long ago.

The lack of affection, of care. The lack of attention.

You are neither a friend nor a foe.

I say - you are just nobody, a kind of reflection.

You are like a blank cartridge of the poke gun.

A shot to a wall. A kiss to the cold muzzle.

The doors are open.

> I`m catching the draughts.

What for do I do it? I`m puzzled.

We are two veins; blue blood runs through us.

Two seats in the audience hall opposite one`s illusions.

When the autumn is gone, the snow will cover our love.

Or it`s better to say "neverlove" as I`ve made the conclusion.

2017

Not a word

The ears - the noise.

The eyes - the tears.

The mouth - the kiss.

The heart - the hurt.

Do you think I hit the brakes?

But I wear nothing under my skirt.

The demon told - "no lingerie".

The thunder beat against the roof.

The ears - the noise. Well, eye to eye.

Who of us was kept aloof?

How did this one forget?

How did the deep wound mend?

Do you think I hit the brakes?

I rip off my cross again!

The heart of ashes. The grave of words.

Your head inclines to me in a bow.

And your forehead beats on stone.

And so bloody is the snow.

My posture now is so straight.

Do you remember me in woe?

I see, you hope, I want to speak.

No. I `ll never breathe a word.

2017

I need a friend to understand

I need a friend to understand,

Not to protect, not to defend,

Who will forbid me to pretend,

Who will explain the things like that.

I need the truth to burn my head,

To make me groan, to make me hate,

To make me laugh, to make me cry,

To let me live and make me die.

I need the night to hide the eyes.

I need no warmth not to despise.