pores

flickering little buttons drop and chatter in the emptiness
the deep soul of a the bended break-up's dancing of the dropping roofs
they won't seem and prove
these wars, these stars, these scars're so useless
this crane with his languid look's so souless
and dropness
and dryness
oh knife of life
make me alive
 when dry cupola of the sky's so colorblind
the climb bloody raindrops crawl into my mind
where are your clouds of grey silence ?
and where are your bars made of mysterious violence
everything within his drops was the darkest and the most convex
and he was a crack on the Jlug's skin
he was a thing on the day when the crushed'll make a sin
nobody just he can feel and can win
in this frail foil
the art of the pores on this eyesless soil
not under yellow moon, butunder the look of overwhelming crator
burning in the soft rain
and going insane
we're screaming something throught the suffocation, it's like :"crane! crane!
give us some wet pain!!!..."
but he's laughing in his own vein.
he understand that he is all
it means that he's nothing, he will receive, deceive and fall
but he even will call
that our dusty water will drop and cast the increasing tortured wall

18.02.14