Poetry from Mykyta Ryzhykh

warning

a storm warning

the butterflies in my stomach

announced the summer plan to intercept


continuous distance
hair fell on hair
the sky turns red as if it knows
everything in advance
my hair fell for
the first time on your comb
which you will never use again

Basement

Human is the basement of the toilet room

Tenement maze of history and stories


No animal in the world has ever died for its cage before

No animal has invented aerial bombs


To first Octobers number 


Suck my death

an unborn kitten is knocking at the church of a torn belly

the future flows like sperm from the wall of the gateway

my dead lover gets stuck in my throat where his cock used to hide during blowjob

I dream of having my throat fucked by a nuclear bomb

I dream in my dreams that instead of a strap-on a hydrogen bomb will stick out of my ass

I know that god will not pour anything into my balls during a handjob

mosquitoes and military pilots meanwhile fly towards the scent of blood

not a single military man gave me flowers

only somewhere in the dark a muscular sergeant said: hey fag suck my dick like before death

what if the ammunition depot where I'm already being fucked by a group of soldiers will explode from the fact that I'm so hot and sexy

suddenly I will destroy the army and piss all the military factories with my blood

suddenly I really will be fucked in a minute by the last soldier in the history of mankind

in the meantime they fuck me in all the cracks and call me a fag

I wonder if the soldiers have wives

I wonder how many lovers smeared the mouths of soldiers' wives with sperm

I wonder how many soldiers kissed their wives on the lips after that

I wonder how many nuclear bombs are produced in secrecy

I would like to grow longer hair and dye it blonde

the truth is hidden in the details of my anus

god fuck us all with your voice

we are tired of the silence of the red buttons

after which a nuclear explosion will follow


after fucking a new nuclear bomb will be born in me [?]


Brown town

In the heart of earthy hues,

Brown town,

A needle threads life's tapestry,

Brown town,

A need, a yearning palpable.

People encircle, form clay figures,

Silent echoes of existence,

Seated, molded by time's unseen hands.

Within, dwell stories untold,

Brown town,

Clay figures poised in quiet contemplation,

Sculpted reflections of shared moments.



my lover asked

my lover asked me when i first saw porn

it would be better if he asked something simpler, like how many times we quarrel with my husband

(sometimes it seems to me that love is too abstract a word for our painfully non-abstract world)

my lover finally pissed me off when he started talking about the non-binary nature of human nature

- I call you bitch to suck and not destroy our homosexual intimacy with the philosophy, fag, - I said to my lover while he turned into a statue

my lover is a beautiful antique statue but alas the statues don't have blood

my professional skills as a bloodsucker are now in question

my lover its: not reacted to my bites and slaps for a day

it seems to me that he sailed away into the cast-iron tunnel of the night

it seems to me that my lover dreams of flowers in ball gowns and without graves

death knocked on the back of the room and asked: whose house is this?

and this ruined house is now a ruin

the anti-missile installation of the heart has failed

the night in the eyes of my dead dead man will no longer dissolve

even explosions won't wake my lover

red sky like a bud revealed death

god's assistant pressed the wrong button again

аll in vain


We

Free

Freends

Friends

French fries

With self burger


We distance

We running

Running away from each other



vegetable garden

my body is a vegetable garden in which nothing grows

we're all hungry without the smell of fresh meat and cum

generals fuck tomorrow's dead for free saving on prostitutes

sun umbrellas and winter sleighs are in vain


sho(r)t (hi)story
I want the last nuclear bomb to explode inside my ass
the sun warms the cold body of my lover shot by dawn
the trenches are screaming but no historian
will tell about our buried feelings in the future
the stones are screaming but only the wind drowning in the river
will tell about our buried lovers

No title
the station of tears breaks out and thirst falls from the inside of the heart
let's go to my house, drink my blood, burst my capillaries, tear my ass, tear out my tonsils
meanwhile god's deputy keeps pushing the wrong buttons

onlyfa
the steak burned inside my stomach
the gun kills me but nothing will come out of my vagina
we drink only sperm
my eggs and balls strive for your grape nipple
still life of the world during the continuous noise of a siren
we drink only tears

one cocku
you drink the silence of my moan
and I feel uneasy about spring
which hasn’t come either

part-time
part-time job
being naked in the pristine ruins of houses

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