flesh zoo

just the first circle of immersion into dead cycles
tyranny of the shattering from cold still whips
rips and rips
growing scratchs in surface sleeps
in the calming of clouds down and psyclons
trash under the stick's faith's depth
grace if flesh have been closed
death of the iron toad
modest falling will tell them
will cruel to show the colors of a crypt
who feeds you at the circles lever in the bended skies
it will leave us without the crash to rise
seeming nice
but not so painfully as
the roaring icon with it's meal gas
and it's crooked claviсle has waited
i'll show you all the real carbon generation
death for sound
breath through the nothing's suffocation
my collar bones have seen
that it have never been
that nothing left for altered grave
give away the closen crave
jumping around in the anaestetic and side
blackness to close a clock and never see the right

03.02.14