The clouds smoke with locomotive cinders,
the sky is tortured with the sign of the stars;
they, as witnesses to all sorts of crimes,
know their rights and keep their heads down.
The world was lost forever with the last
cry of the chromed bird.
What color is the oxygen?
The connection to the sun is gone – no contract.
I swallow a Xanax and wade into the sea.
The wild waves rub my wallpaper, my skin,
as if confessing their hatred.
Looking into the distance, I see the sky,
like a tiny mollusk, I crawled out of my shell.
And the sky burned on my cornea.
nonstop torture
madness farce decadence
I'm a silent river
electric shock
220 volt pulse
agony and anhedonia
Trying To Pretend To Be Asleep...
(from the cycle of telegrics "Transcendance", July 2023)
Aeternumphobia
© Copyright: Константин Немель, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123100402063
Свидетельство о публикации №123100402063
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