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< Misha Campfires



The moment I touch the world -
Should I be happy,
Or, angry, cry?
How do I respond to the infinite,
Annoying cozy shell:
Images,
Sounds,
Smells,
Sugary sweetness on the tongue?
Encroachments from the outside,
Tried to make
I am a slave to my past,
Forcing sublimate
The experience of mankind,
In the face:
Parents,
Friends,
Leading senseless news,
Sauceda, named Fedor,
From the first floor,
What
smokes under the stairs Cheap cigarettes ...

How to treat it?
Cry, cry, rejoice?
Hang around like a number
In the midst of his love,
Speak;
"Look, I love!»
Contrary to custom,
Which prohibits
I touch you?
I need three hundred years
And hundreds of fires,
To bring in
sacrifice All that I feel.
Do you think,
I should trample their faith?

Words like fired
On the arbitrariness of the arrows of fate,
Bites into a passerby,
Whom no case before us,
And he, trembling with despair,
Dying as a personality,
Madden surrounding
Infinite drunken freedom.

I can guess
On abandoned by passing grains.
I can read in your eyes forever.
I'm in a dream, on a leaky shlyayus wrong side of the world.
You call me, say you met.
I laugh grimly into the phone,
Something was lying out of place.
All over again - every gesture, from birth to death
Like a blind dance dagger,
Before Passato Soto.

This price did not pay a lot.
Pay, rule the world.
Dared to become immortal.