In the labyrinth of myself, I am moving around like a madman

< Felix Komarov



In the labyrinth of myself, I am moving around like a madman.
Crashing against the walls of the fragile flesh.
Nothing changes in the sublunary world,
And the Lord is silent in the darkness.
He was in the dark, in silence, all the pleas - only echo
. And in a circle, a circle is a labyrinth ...
From pleasure to pain, from crying to laughing
He is with me, he is in me, stinking priestly bandage.
I've been buried in this tomb hot,
This reddening flesh vein walls.
And on the walls scratching fingers
face All the gods and goddesses ... But in response - only ashes
It is spreading, multiplying the word itself.
But in response - just howling infinite pleas ...
Somewhere they believe in God, and wait for the harvest,
And quietly bear the cemeteries graves.
Somewhere baptize children, hugging loved ones,
Raise their glasses with cold wine,
Under con withered bag back,
A kiss, call it all a dream.
And below them, above them turns of the maze ...
But alone who is blind? And blessed is he who is deaf,
If foaming pint of good beer,
And the hostess newspaper herded all the flies.
My destiny is not such, I am in the darkness ... light thirst
Unknown to me, he, so far I run?
Only with skin smell the breath of the wind,
And somehow, alas, can not.