Inside (Seventh Day) Bashny.Net

< Michael Puchkovsky



Poet BZ (Eugenia Bilchenko)

We fell out, where the depth of light.
We were dressed in suits, to prevent damage to the soul.
We strive to go home, but grows in the way of the wall,
A shimmering call burns a hole in his chest.

Not to hear the ears, we have created white noise - Millions of unwanted sounds and strange words
. We came up with the network, so to settle your mind - In a whirlwind of false, invented them, the worlds

. This matrix, Neo, you try to grasp it,
So as not to become a part of it, ispivshi it to the bottom.
The flesh of the flesh of her, you her semihvosty scourge,
You are the winner of it, you're a doctor because she was ill.

You know, the kingdom - inside and outside it reigns
. After all, she swung, she seeks the nail on the head,
After all, it is unrealistic, though collected and strong,
After all, it dooms itself, dooming us.

And in God, He is only a certain period,
To infinity point explode three-dimensional world.
But when your soul naked embrace God,
Obsosёt your bones evil vampire network.

Boiling, hissing behind digital blood
Virtual carnage and mental Kamasutra,
And the final blow - though not in the eye - but it touches the eyebrow ...
Well, let - We left
. We were saved.
We stepped inside.