sperm is a dead matter

to my grand sUn (light head)

They gave you birth again when I was away.
I remember the day in heaven when they gathered there, strict angels and serious saints and all - the most influential jury

and decided of who would be the best mother for you

the best mother on Earth

and they had not chosen me, they never hesitated about discarding me, just rejected immediately my candidature, my talents, my perseverence, my longing for you motherhood. they kicked me off. they never even considered me for a go - she is ridiculous - was what they probably chuckled after I had left the saloon, chrisitan fools.

I rushed to heaven to compete, I wanted to become your mother again, remember? Do you remember when we first met? Do you remember how I nurtured you inside my belly, my fetishist brother, my vegetarian father, my moonson, my steplover… my grandsun… my lighthead.

Finish me off. My life is a waste. My womb is overwhelmed with wounds and supernatural decision, my head is hell - welcome in - but you won’t. Quite understandable.

Sweet animal of morning erection

I missed you so much even at the age of three and I had been waiting for you for all my life

Now that we have met again and it is all in vain and you are rejecting again - let me go towards immediate oblivion

son we could make a beautiful family you and your mother

perfect human that you are and nasty weed in the garden

о густой мед

Paranthesis disobeys,
sucks my finger of passion to quote
myself in irrelevant articles,
begs me a lot of prayers,
proclaims me a divine,
takes a spider form
and runs away like black milk
from at dead mother’s lap.

Oh density of honey
drowns the aftertaste of our love.
Our past succumbed to fasting:
remember how I suffered don’t -
don’t remember last summer’s sentence.

Ассоциативный ряд: счастье - паук. Может из-за народного суеверия: убить паука - судьбу свою загубить.

Спит животное-паук… Властелин одной восьми всего (существующего ли) времени: первой половины осени же. Пока мы наполняли хлевы, пока пауки кутали осень в бабье лето с отчаяния - пока готовились к вечной апокалиптической спячке…

Я верю что у пауков не так как у нас, что метаморфоза их смерти/рождения сохраняет сквозное сознание. Для пауков умереть и родиться - это как заснуть и проснуться. И они все помнят. Поэтому они смогли усвоить эту странную архитектуру паутины, загробного шелка для твоей невесты, Любовь моя, твоей единственной невесты.

Паук спускается на канате своей слюны, я жду любых вестей от тебя, Любовь моя, даже самых лихих. *Иногда я слизываю с губ слюну-паутину.

*

Тогда я не знаю, кто же все таки паук - животное или человек? Шизофрения восьмого глаза, размытость пейзажей, но проницательность духа на все 360.
*
Должна ли я сосать твой член

*

- или уползти с оскалом.*

´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´´

кто она? кто она? кто она? кто она? кто она? кто она? кто она? кто она? кто она? кто она?

Lifetimes are archived in the back of my head. I remember of something unusually tangled. In a more perfect world guilt and revenge don’t marry so merrily. I remember myself as a murderer, I remember myself being murdered. I accumulate guilt: I bare my own guilt; I take your guilt on myself because I believe you have had enough. I believe that this guilt-revenge applied to you is unnececessary. Maybe I forgive you what you have not done. Most likely I fogive you something I have imagined, daydreamt. There, in the back of my head, in the archive of past seasons, my clumsy memories have no better example than you. There is an outstanding reality of something bigger than what they call war. Pain is an advicer, not a mean, not a purpose. I reach out, I kneel to thank the dice that has only seperated us by distance and not time.

I, full of tuberculoses, plant more of it
in those I would love to bury
in those I love
because our decomposition is like honey
worms swarm up around it like bees
and penetrate and make hollower.

In the end of this grotesque theatrical thing
in which everything is set in motion
and even the decorations
- we meet, an animal of eaten out flesh
and its sickness, my kindness to you.