This day is not like yesterday:
the fuss has subsided, to match it
I'm in regular clothes.
getting ready to fall asleep.
I rummage in my mind, trying to find it
the thread seemed to crumble to dust,
like last year - like the corpses
moving through my thoughts, and fear
lurking and holding in fear
a dream is not a dream, it just doesn't believe me,
what can I do when I'm sad at my leisure,
slip through those two doors.
The first day of the new year
passed quietly, joyless, sad.
Obviously it's nature
it made me feel strange.
Just was in a hurry and drank,
as one, everyone wanted to make it,
until the sounds of the Imperial beat,
in the New year to slip, get drunk.
And now at the evening dawn -
no excitement, no rush, no zgi,
like some November.
Emptiness. Perish, unclean, perish.
01.01.2020
this day
© Copyright: Анна Фёдоровна Котова, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010207552
Свидетельство о публикации №120010207552
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