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I sink in pain
< Felix Komarov
I sink into the pain and torment as a bathyscaphe to the bottom of the seas, cherishing thin separation from the lights of fabulous beasts. Do not see the bottom of the constellations do not hear the barking hounds, I flatten the futility and stun reproach centuries. I in them for life crawling snake and dropping the skin dying, and devoured him yourself .... Now at the bottom of anguish fell ... as a pancake flattened face to the window, where the nose, where the lips do not understand and I feel I have a cat that Schrodinger up at knife ... flocked muddy waves, having painted the room in crimson, so lost and an evil that foretold all end ... from the intestines of sculpting character for it to mummy dressed, dragging his corpse through the rapids, under the groans charred virgins ... my hope, my faith, my love ... and what to say when you forget the pioneers in the neck hemp tie ... and here I cry alone, the Indian on murdered squaw, and darkly lit far, through the misted glass.
I sink into the pain and torment as a bathyscaphe to the bottom of the seas, cherishing thin separation from the lights of fabulous beasts. Do not see the bottom of the constellations do not hear the barking hounds, I flatten the futility and stun reproach centuries. I in them for life crawling snake and dropping the skin dying, and devoured him yourself .... Now at the bottom of anguish fell ... as a pancake flattened face to the window, where the nose, where the lips do not understand and I feel I have a cat that Schrodinger up at knife ... flocked muddy waves, having painted the room in crimson, so lost and an evil that foretold all end ... from the intestines of sculpting character for it to mummy dressed, dragging his corpse through the rapids, under the groans charred virgins ... my hope, my faith, my love ... and what to say when you forget the pioneers in the neck hemp tie ... and here I cry alone, the Indian on murdered squaw, and darkly lit far, through the misted glass.
