***
ant learns to be small

***
the flower says goodbye in humility
but no one knows the language of flowers
even autumn remains indifferent

***
the wind 
scratches the petals

the weather body 
plunges into silence

***
I can't wait for winter
it's starting to snow and I'm in a stupor
I still can't forget you

***
bodies in graves
leaves underfoot
crunch

***
we sold our asses on the dark web every night
because nightingales no longer
accompany us with baby lullabies

money stolen from one's own
body is like coal from mines
need broke people in half
people broke the need in half

crowds of bawlers who forbade me to fuck in the ass
with homosexual boys and swallow their sperm
cannot imagine how many lovers' sperm
they lick from their wives' lips
love has broken us all
we all broke love

***
The dead do not choose who to come to in dreams
Shaggy blood cannot freeze on the rusty body of snow

Night of the concrete taste
Breaking silence

The bird sings a song
The song ruins the bird

***
cemetery puddle
I'm drowning in the grass like an embryo in a mother's belly

rain falls on the cemetery again
you are falling into the cemetery again

***
metal spikes of your kiss
the tattered leaves of my madness
I went crazy for the love of your winter
your snowy red palms make me sad
the distances between the letters of your name bring despair
the darkness in the night pupils is not capable of choice
love or die
suffer or be humus
unfinished concentration camps skulls are silent
the failed noses of love sniffle in the language of flowers
I'm looking for black rope for a bouquet of flowers
flowers strangled by the throat are not able to live without a cemetery

***
The sky ends with the grass dying
The dying sun turns to cold glass
Whose blood will flow from the wounds of the earth at the last moment?

Angels will come down at the most difficult moment
The walls are red like a throat will open up before them
Triangles of fear will explode and will warm cold fingers in vain

***
Wet hands like branches dangling in the cold wind
Aching hands like corpses dangling in the cold wind
Dead hands dangle in the cold wind

The raven screams at the pink moon and the moon turns red
Foliage lying on the ground asks for a drink
The walls of the night shrink to the size of a grave

Flowers grow
Flowers grow in the cemetery

***
The game of life is very strange
The game of life is very funny

People are real gods
Humans are gods of death

No one has risen again
Silence draws a hungry icon