The fly.

I hate the feeling of dullness. So bad. It kills the life in me. Where is the exit?

Dullness feels like some sticky rubbery matter that sucks you in. You kick and protest at first, but then you just give up. You curl up and die slowly and become a very little, very insignificant part of someone else's life.

That's all you are now. A fly. Inside the amber. On someone's neck. Wake up into your illusion of the world. Go to work. Come home. TV. Go to sleep. Good night.

The fly that cannot fly. That's what dullness is to life.

Night. Whispers. Sleepy town.

Windows wide open. Moon fragment.

Smoke. Coffee. Bitter taste in the throat.

Love. Melancholy. Bloody heart.

Phone calls. Tears. Thorns. Roses.

Sand. Clocks. Dreams. Stars.

Earth. Air. People. Eternity.

Me. You, and ∞

Life is a risk

You are walking away.
Way to go...
You would turn back,
But the ship is not waiting.

I am crying
As all I have treasured
Becomes a small black dot
In the distance.

You would turn back,
But the ship is leaving with
Or without you.

You are in
About to set sail
From all that I was
To all I am not.

I was standing on the shore
Trying hard to leave the deck
Of the ship that was sailing away.

That was the hardest thing
I have done.

Homeless creativity

I am a super creative person with no particular talents. It´s hard, man. I am telling you...

Home is where the heart is

You are walking in the same way as I did,
You could be me.
Do the streets still remember how I look,
How I breathe?
I will never get enough of the air
That my lungs can´t recall
And the rain has erased all the footprints
In the place I was born.

I am not gone though,
I am still around...
And the spring sun is shining
Into my childhood bedroom ah so bright.
My fingerprints are still touching the knob
Of my mother´s door.
I can´t be forgetting this anymore.

Around my hometown, memories are fresh,
Around my hometown, oohh, the people I´ve met...
All the wonders of my world, all the wonders of this world
Start in my hometown...

С Днем Рожденья, папа

С Днем Рожденья, мой вечно молодой...

Сколько времени прошло? Уже 8 лет. Не помню тот день- все быстро, сложно и больно.

Но сегодня радостный день, папа. Не будем о плохом. Давай вспомним мое детство, ведь тогда ты был неотъемлемой частью моего "богатства".

Лет до 12 я была очень счасливым ребенком. Как себя помню, каждую ночь перед сном я проводила полную ревизию своего богатства. Я не могла поверить своему счастью.

Итак, однокомнатная квартира. 3 человека. 1 собака. Спокойной ночи, мама. Спокойной ночи, папа. Спокойной ночи, Данька.

Мое богатсво:

Мама, папа, Данька; - есть

Бабушка (беленькая), дедушка; - есть

Бабушка (черненькая); - есть

Тетя, дядя, двоюродный брат; - на месте

Подружка Настя этажом выше, подружка Ксюша в соседнем подъезде, подружка Женя в соседнем Доме, подружка Алена (приедет скоро из Москвы на лето); - так точно

подружка Ксюша и подружка Катя в школе (завтра моя очередь идти провожать?)... - да

Все на месте, все на своих местах. Everything´s in its right place.

Боже, какое богатсво, какое счастье...
Спокойной ночи, мама. Спокойной ночи, папа. Я вас люблю.