Poetry from Mykyta Ryzhykh

The boy

the boy dies as if the AIDS of past happiness lives in his heart

the boy is silent until the screams on his nails turn into screams

the sky above the boy’s head bursts like a balloon

the sky falls on the heads as if the heads are still not cut down

the anus is like a water pipe: it will just flood everything around

life is like a plumbing pipe torn without an anal ring

the sky overhead repeats the weakness

the god above his head cannot explain the meaning of his presence

a sweater draped over the skin instead of a mole and a tattoo is torn

a man stands near the sign and does not know where to go next

where to? in basements where it’s easier to hide and fuck?

or move forward? or into the future that floats in its own absence

it starts to rain and the dogs get wet

I wash in the rain

I wash exclusively in the rain

I’m dying inside someone else with my name and body

I wash only in the death

I’m dying but I live

I’m rain with a soft torso

boy / me / or someone else

while around the zz skr sc cars ars

iron butterflies tear the stomach

the city tramples me with leaves

crunch outside or inside fills the air

all around say: quietly quietly

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