The panic smells like the spirits vomited by teens.
The panic bells break the fragile dull routines.
I cannot die – there must be an escape,
Where is my pipe and Sherlock’s cape?
My mind has become very inventive –
What shall I do to be preventive?
Well, the plague doctor’s beak mask with a filter should go first,
The bourbon extruding lip cover to quench my kiss thirst.
Then, a safe automatic penis take out disinfected kit,
The pest killing tongue sheath would be also a hit,
A dozen of washable pairs of cyber skin gloves,
A blower of kisses for the fool, who still loves,
A portable burner of banknotes and books,
A washer for dirty contaminated looks,
Inflatable friends to keep them at hand,
Untouch screen mobile with an antiseptic band,
A planet/ a desolate island for me to survive,
The Yggdrasil (private) with a girl to revive!
No shit!
© Copyright: Дмитрий Красюков, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120032004916
Свидетельство о публикации №120032004916
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