SUPERHERO Bashny.Net

< Tim Skorenko



No shaky or rolls. Everything runs like a concentration camp,
Iron bed, creaky grace.
Do not I drop anchor, fun flags dangling,
A rooted knee - not dig, do not sell.
In the dream, I go to the beautiful copper color,
But I do not want them (no matter what the price).
I just want to be a bear. Steel
bear With the eyes of the beads and wings on his back.

I walk through the forest itself. Staring at the stupid birds.
I picked them up in his arms, bear in a den, sing.
Stela their bed, reciting poabzatsno
What a story. Of course, not his.
I was hopeless, split, broken, ripped -
A rescue hares, stitching on the flap.
Inside my infinity, and the forest and the city,
And you never know what else might be lurking there.

And if you are, you bastard, you dare touch a hare,
Dare shove here washed down his swine,
What better recently, bitch, do not waste a cartridge -
Keep for yourself, I'm behind you.
I am the alpha and the omega, from the end to the beginning,
I am the apostle of the archangel, the archipelago!
Plug-handed, and then open the door growling -
And then do not help either bima or dome.

Excuse me. Razoshёlsya. A little carried away.
Leverets asleep. By the end sailed story.
I get up - excessive, huge, ferocious Rocks,
Hardly audible creaks nedosmazanny my frame.
And I come back - but how else? -
To iron bed, a darkening strip,
Where should wake up, he heard someone crying,
And the best, it requires conscience - not sleep very

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