Порт

I love your city , I'm afraid
its like sticky candy,
lick and discarded feelings.
yesterday's newspaper
lie ... Put your hand - a lamp , a door
outlined contour irregularities ,
trembling in the mirror - now
Pornographic films are no longer in fashion -
approaching
auction innocence
when condoms are sold
faster than your love .
Eyes , painted blue ink
carefully evaluate the shadow.
In the neighboring windows yellow light
and anything like that ,
a typical day ,
invented for us
twelve thousand years ago.
Parade of Broken Words
ends , as a phone number .
I repeat :
There is no law that I did not break .
when poetry is just an excuse to have sex with you ;
read poetry and fuck - the same thing -
bed, like a blank sheet ,
ink - sperm .
Which door opens a simple assumption
The whole world has gone mad .
itself
wanted
Sparkling skyline .
poisoned dampness , lights working crane dance -
it's just a cipher , clear of the poet ,
it is part of reality , it was called a miracle by mistake.
port
large dead animals ,
Take my love .
girls at a time crawling on his stomach heat
its cause ...
leave the investigation in the morning ,
becomes quite clear,
and strangely intertwined with flashing spotlights ,
loses appeal and strength ...
to break the horizon moans
to disgust holёny albatross .
Bay marina licking -
Menstruating bitch just
licking dog in verse Mayakovsky .
spit
in the face
at a meeting -
it's just -
good poetic technique ,
he is more radical alternative of any project.
even the night
bursting at the seams when I repeat:
port, .