ulianov

Thus you spent.

richly consuming your ropes,

tightly tiyng triple

expectations

of finding art, machines and

elucubration

of mingling moons

around a neck of

fading pixels.

Thus you escape.

Maximum jailbreak

to your lonely mistress

from this lonely fitness

of well-arranged aesthetics.

And to the crow I throw the sky

its lingering looming lullabies

tattoos and lives.

I spent the night under the hills,

now I'll go

out out out, far away

where the ice caps melt

with my desires.

be for you the world

as a floating gift

that wish to speak to you