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.
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.
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
—————————————
My grandma was a little bit possessed by the aristocratic madness
Love is a mistake
You lose your resolve, woman
He is not a god, and you are not a bird
You will go straight to well with your nirvana
They don’t want it
They like concrete
I really need to get myself some piano
Oh, Sappho and romantics
Stop strangling me in the sleep
Incubus
You dreamers
All your opium love spelled dreams
Are suffocating
Killing babies in their sleep at night for their selfish lovers
The puzzle of love
is in the mind
but in my head it’s like shattered triangles
sometimes it’s right sometimes it’s left
all that mystical mess
my mind desynchronizes
when I’m trying to avoid your gaze
the puzzle of love
is your quest
Just now I have almost lost the meaning of life
Ok, lets the love die
lets dive into the abyss
with those bloody witches
you’ll win
after all, we cannot longer contain the explosion of malaise
the boredom is eating us like fish and chips
I have no more dreams
Lets us all go mad in this boring madness
all this stupidity
so what
they always win those bastards
so let them win
I’ 12 and I’m very depressed
love fantasy
jesus
pills
creating an altar
but my sister is not into religion
orange carpet
and I
loneliness
almost masculine
harsh
the imagination
of the catholic church
is rigid
i need more spring
more spring flowers and water
but not to holy mary
this men in white gowns must be very sad
priests
boys in entrapment
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