We did not exchange any objects
No totems
Or signs of love
However you call it
It was none
In the large structure of air above us
We have left marks of nothing
Now, we can breath
On the lines of telepathic connections
There are no pigeons to gossip
No women to soften this curse
In the large building of emptiness
There is space for loneliness
Secured and safe
There was Satan behind our backs
Walking with us on the London Bridge
I didn’t know
but you probably were aware of it
judging by the level of your paranoia
For me, just slightly off, romantic darkly
Everything was perfect.
Now the love is gone,
The war is on, which was then just hanging in our verses –
I would like to have a pink house with a white porcelain in it,
You could go in,
You could go out,
no pressure,
The problem is, I don’t have a palace,
no single room of independence –
I guess, that’s fate,
What can I do
Some people loose in checkers.
All alone, in perpetual darkness
Inside
Cause outside
Everything seems to be smooth and shiny
But no
Deep deep down
There is nothing
Disconnected hollowness
And there is fear
A deep deep pitch
I prefer not to look into closely
Please don’t be bad
Will the shadow disappear
Wherever I go I feel coldness
I have no soul
No ounce of it in me
I follow the track
Of my destiny
The god or the male
Or the military
Cause it’s them, who lead the world for me
The path is clear
All I need is to submit
I have no soul
It was denied for me.
So what are we supposed to do
Kill each other
Commit suicide
Get married?
The pressure is too hard to endure
And it’s more than just atmospheric
Can’t fight it away
Everyone is against us
Even the psychiatrists
Especially them
Can’t make a step either left or right
A total impasse
Or maybe I am imagining things
Maybe we are both creating this schizophrenic drama
For a show which will never be staged
Not in this city
Not in this country
Not here
Here only a prison
Of squashed reality
A world based on lies
In the middle of this hypocrisy
We die
With you it felt that everything was in alignment
Even my head
Especially it
And my body more grounded
Or my soul
If there is such a thing
now it is chaos
And all the doors are blocked in my apartment
Can’t talk with anybody
Except for what they throw at me
That’s it
Always interrupted
Whenever my thought is pursuing something
The surface people are like daggers
They are embodied
And I am removed
Once with you I felt there was some meaning
To all what is floating and disjoined
And my mind had been grounded
But now I hate you
Because all you have seen in me was a woman
And you
In it
And me like your canvas or a character.
You are moving too fast
With that little poem
Guerilla warfare
In the depths of your dark – green eyes
Emeralds
But she wants diamonds
Like always
Maybe she even could stoop so low and
accept the fake ones
It’s all so trite
These women
What do I need it for?
Devil knows
Like if it was not enough
Eating strawberries
On a Saturday morning.
I can’t stand being without you, today
When the order of Satan is encircling you
To push you away
The blood ritual
Which makes me faint
Why the darkness is pressing you down
It sends needles down my spine
The nature doesn’t have to be made for death
Cristal waters
Green rivers
Little huts
Instead – bloodshed is coming from behind the border
Escape
No friends or rather
Friends-enemies
And I am myself
a friend-enemy
To myself and them
Could we escape?
Hide in the forest of Hamstead Heat
He doesn’t understand
Enough of poetry, I say
Poetry is for the cowards or those who cannot speak
Those strong personas
those narcissists
Are putting their heavy shoes on me
I hate them
I would like to go but I can’t
Cause I am seized by anxiety
like under the Russian invasion
It seizes me
What is a soul and what about it
It pulls me into a murky pond. No!
Just stay still and wait
How can we stop the tornado of hate?
Let’s make a hedge
A nice hedge sparkled with magic,
a hedge nobody can’t kick
neither be a Russian or an Ukrainian
A beautiful hedge
With no crossings
A labyrinth for the mind
Take of your heavy shoes
Back off to your polygon
You bastard
It’s a sanctuary
I hate you
I do I do I do
As if being down-to-earth
is diminishing our souls
as if it was an insult to us
to degrade to the earthiness and materialism
myopic day-to-day
no, we can’t live like that
but what are the alternatives
only to daydream
in a confused fantasy
the option is the inability to be free in this unfreedom
cause we were not born rich
cause the Russians took our things
and killed our souls with stones
antiinsanityblog 