Комната

last days of winter ahead
mockery , spitting
from the depths
communal apartments
no heating
exhausted itself as a photographer, poet and as a man
between me and the grave only own death
because quite simply mad from hunger
attack the wall and there's a wallpaper
not to give emotions to twinges
memoirs
suddenly
like a knife across his throat slashed
fresh breeze from the old garden
summer evening campfire drowning glance
dreamers like you , guard the dim light of the moon
smells and most importantly - the smell of the night
rested in walnut, your body is his spine
embossed gray branches stored body gangrene
yes, they too jesters Bethlehem.

this is no joke , though eerily close
without raising his eyes
see them trap

language does not move -
" I'll be your "
cleanse you only complete isolation
in the suburbs between the forest and the rails
circling the replay with a single song

here you are , and stories about dreams
leave until better days
in the next room , the neighbors
gathered in drochat zeros on snuff
rooms - kaleidoscopes
Shiryaev inside a rotten vein
with only one request -
invite the birds fly home!

we are so straightforward squared Globe
Aesopian language cut and trampled
here the negative wealth
Price lists only fatigue

summer snowfalls
kiss cold bogs
touched during the touch
Fear not all come, you still undermine
com claims , honesty - vintage
prichischenny talc
and the really
you
me
who?