Kitabı oku: «She miss you», sayfa 2
Snow
Crackles. Cold. Penetrates, cooling through the windows. Icicles make their way through crystals. A dozen duvets do not save. Firewood is thrown, the flame greedily swallows, demanding to throw fatigue in return. I am engaged for eight hours by definition complete stupidity, after which – to the home on the conveyor. Satisfying the hunger in the entertainment of the inhabitants. In fact, a gear in an ancient machine with a status, which does not change anything for the warmth of the ball. In an instant, slightly slowing down the predatory speed, to be replaced, cynically, without tenderness. What am I trying to achieve? Sufficiency? Recognition. A dozen compliments. Palms, palms. Prestigious place on a branch. That’s funny. I rake out a knapsack with candy wrappers in a moment, as soon as I plunge into inspiration. There, a little higher, albeit with grins, but politeness, without sudden movements, without axes, without pushes into the abyss, not because they were brought up, but only for the halo of reputation. Down there, hunger is still being eaten indiscriminately, in batches, maintaining equanimity at the top and creating the comfort of the environment, in oblivion, turning off the sober furiously clapping, smashing their hands into the blood in desire a little closer, closer, sticking out the rough at the first one. The absolute is at a loss, the leaves of the calendar are falling. Crumpled. Paper napkin, stained, waiting for the trash can. The luxury of participating in third-party decorations, only for a vacuum evening before bedtime, other people’s travels, peeping through the lock with a subscription to the series of a bitten apple. Again. Nobody believes it. Motley advice angers with inadequacy. Upset. Dig. I sort it out. I alternate. Having chosen a men’s sport, I am a little upset. I wake up, rummage through the closet of discarded outfits, trying on another mood for the audience, assuming to be met, noticed, marked. Complete your cycle of tasks on mechanics for a handful of candy wrappers on plastic at the end of the next calendar finish. Friends in pain deep after midnight, each with cuts, pride, ghostly grandeur, devastated by loneliness. I don’t want to pull out the sickly, pinched by their own fears. I drink velvet-tart grape wine. Jogging to splashes. I read rarely, more often I throw it away – it doesn’t work, or maybe it’s not enough collected to perceive reviews. I get offended, thinking, I keep something in myself that still shudders warmly. I cry with the blizzard in unison. I open the windows at night for the fresh silence of the twilight. So sometimes I get tired of loneliness. with a shade of unkindness. I smell far-fetched danger everywhere. The scene is disgusting from time to time, I want it without pretense, I just want to be a little girl, upset, whiny, with sobs, with hysterics, with stroking the palm of a man’s hand affectionately, with simultaneous stomping of the foot, letting go of the barbs from the desire for even stronger hugs, breaking out.
Slammed… “My friend, please announce the account. I’m flying to the next one again. Light, without vulgarity. I’m drowning, the showcases with feigned cheerfulness content are still working. She is in demand for compliments and financial support. Yes, champagne and black, also mine. It’s somehow quiet and comfortable inside, but so rarely. I can’t catch their shades, root causes, I forget about the following. Waves catch myself wanting to inject a dose of horse happiness for continuity. It doesn’t work, maybe with time. Silence envelops my feet with fog. Finish lines are visible from past tasks, any desire requires you to say goodbye to your comfort zone… And how are you? Again, again with intricately intertwined hints, shades, riddles? Aren’t you tired? Maybe it’s easier, easier? Yes, I know, there are thousands of you, so you will turn into dust, losing interest without your own invented rules of games. I still like to climb on the edge of rocky, responsible climbing. I decided to put on a shawl of pride. You know about my actress with pigtails, the hysterical psychopath with bows, the cat with a ponytail. Not that I miss you, but to be clear, do you have me in your plans? Unconscionable. I’m lying, lying, lying, of course, shameless, a fool with a raised nose, well-groomed. Yes, what else to do? I want to get you to me in any way I can. Just for the ends, just the touch of you, dear, eccentric. With rough stubble, with bear hugs, just to dissolve as a girl in the chest! Come, do you hear? Fool. I missed you.”
January
To foster loneliness? Who will take responsibility? Not to indulge whims, but to teach them to put them brick by brick step by step. Who would dare? He will tell you how to behave, answer, be silent, nod, cook, smile sincerely, and not for the right time… Who will implant self-esteem, especially in case of falls, self-respect? By giving them the ability to come up with their own games, worthy of all the way. To endure a pause of silence, a deficit, creating boredom, not for vulgar presentations, but simply not to be trampled, devalued and other synonyms…
I have been spoiled since childhood. All for the sake of that wild fear inside – not to be left alone, grains of sand continue to fall to the bottom, burning out depression. Surges of kindness, with the forgiveness of external cold, gather their fingers in anticipation of an answer similar in state to the given one. Illusory and chilly hopes for communication at a distance with those same steel inner cables. Again about the rake, at the wrong time, on the other end – he has drunken laughter, ringing to smithereens, beats of music, does not go with the prevailing colors at the moment. Evening. Street. The wind shamelessly in obsessive attempts at vulgar acquaintance. Snow illumination. Again steel under the left flashes, a check for a vessel of astringent, a pedal to the floor, a diagonal pedal – slammed shut, dropped wherever it went, the pop of a cork, the sounds of launched content for entertainment. Gulp, gulp, gulp with greed. Pupils automatically immerse themselves in other people’s events on the blue monitor. Distracting from your own, carrying you into other people’s stories, allowing you to be an outside contemplative without touching. Broadcast.
It happens to someone. Strong in the plot, it is a debt to become cloyingly sweet, allowing yourself to be kicked by phrases, intonation, look, more often, in fact, mediocrity, uneducated, pumped. In response, he politely asks, as if apologizing in advance for the restaurant he chose. She is hysterical, does not accept objections. At most, she dines in canteens, in the evenings with fast food in her arms, in a moment she grabs the opportunity to be rude, stomping second-hand. Demanding a dish, guided not by the combination, but exclusively by the highest cetlik, blurting out unconsciously. The vulgar ill-manneredness of the peeping from her favorite, the one with whom she is signed among other millions, affects. Not worse, not better, but a step closer… For how long? Is it allowed? After all, someone has to remove the wet reins to cultivate gray permissiveness. As soon as it is boorish, the cattle of dirt emerges.
Here are the last drops, without hurrying – with a tongue, a little drunk. A sandwich with a black one. Sleep, sleep among a dozen downy girlfriends, wrapped up. Quiet, quiet. Cozy.
Slammed. “I understood less and less of what you read. I understand, I understand, but I rarely look upset in the mirror. More often than not, there is no time. Online brainwashers are fighting for attention, not forgetting to regularly issue checks. The ocean with its servants still calms me, disperses the clouds for me, stroking me with the sun. In the morning, I run with the gold of coastal beaches in headphones along my patron. He plays with me, flirts with the surf, foamy waves, soiling me in the sand, after kissing me, washes me off immediately. Another dog with sagging sides, with a sincere look, feeding, now my personal friend of the ocean is devoted. Single foreign owners serve physics. They acquire sand time. I play the game they offered for privileges, I slowly add fat to fat. Not tenderness, not deep, so surfing on the surface. I also drink red, distract, forget, switch myself inside to a strong one. Well, how are you? What do you have? It’s cold? January. Unashamed. Love? I really, really want to be in your arms, that little one. Tell. There was a surge of emotions, at the moment I was already ordering, a one-sided exit from the game, throw and fly, fell asleep. Maybe it was right? Will you come? I kiss you. I missed you so much.”
Slowly…
Morning motifs. Working days. Sleepy city. The avenues are in disrepair. Waking up a little. Stretching. French motifs. Everything is familiar. Coffee. The smell of croissants for breakfast. The windows are permeated with cold. Observers. Not in a hurry. Allowing others to dive thoughtlessly. Not rushing in action.
Slowly, noticing how he treats his father, with all his shortcomings. With dirty soles, evicting them to public ones. Accepting payment for any action offered out of courtesy. Slowly, noticing how he treats the dog, with all the ostentatious joy, taking advantage of free access, with the opportunity to put the cute in the grid for public approval. Taking for granted the maintenance of a four-legged animal, as if not trying to create and build a common thing in advance. There are no complaints, only a statement of the lack of upbringing. Without hurrying noticing how she melted under the injustice of her mother, manipulating pity and aggression. Slowly noticing how I was drawn to sharing content with fickle, wind-filled ones, dancing, bending, imagining myself among imaginary friends, plunging into pink delusions. Slowly, noticing how shamelessly I did not know how to defend what was entrusted to me, in the next attempts to please other predators, to wag my shabby tail, in fears of my own thoughts, and returning my dear, entrusted with dents, in shabby, in broken. The corrupt character of the servant girl is stupid. Admitting the possibility of ugly kicking those who, with sincere hugs, imbued with an understanding of the essence – obligation, thoughtfulness in actions, reading pages from past experience. A little less modesty, again abandoned with leaves, powdered with snow, more ice needles in the heart. Loud vows, pronounced at the moment of your own confidence, about your own devotion, about choosing a future path without a companion, are dispelled in moments, predictably meeting on services. Fenders tend to get wet and heavy, especially in such a climate. At times, it is like a dove cowering in a passage. Nothing of his own was created, everything was next to each other, from the barrel, allowing himself to disdainfully blurt out words in colors about the first steps of his companion, cutting up the helpless blanks with criticism. Who is she? Who allowed it? A little more – and the predator will tear apart in an instant, protecting its created, still so small. Tears, drops, girlish resentments with a vulgar lack of education. Hush, hush… No one will say anything in response, in the past. They just silently cross out the name from the notebook, deleting everything possible that previously connected. By gluing the label, it is insatiable, alien, vulgar. How could it be otherwise? To wander again, begging for ghostly huskies. Refusals are pouring in like a fan, sand ones are counting down in selfish indifference. Continuing his winding path, going through small ones in the complete darkness of loneliness. It is difficult to try to please with each new one, to tie up any for the future, having a difficult backpack with past experience. More and more often more harshly, more often more intolerant, more and more often less energy to laugh at other people’s stupid jokes. Without hurrying, noticing, the inner state methodically with a scalpel, more and more distant with his own indifference, without interest in the absolute, which feeds, as if a fleeting view of a short film, not for repeated attention. I am covered with a vacuum, comforting myself with a different dawn in colors, with other possibilities. Crowds of settling in their own caves, surrounding themselves with understandable, predictable and comfortable ones.
Everyday. Crises in the mind. Mid-daylight. The winter sun hurries those in a hurry. Recruitment, connection with the similar. Conditioned. Sat down – everything is normal, the beginning is about nothing, as before. Boring with summer burdens the stories about vacation in the tropical, comparing the former one by the ocean. Boredom in it is like cobwebs. Discussed, skipped, squeezed, betrayed sarcasm drops. Emptiness. Exchanged prickly. Wave of text, following about the affairs of this and that, floundering prospects. Having exhausted the possible. Smoothly transferring to the excellent accessibility of a cramped, million-strong metropolis.
Slammed. “Not about me? And I’m flying again. I fly, flapping my wings, I am bored for a long time with people I meet, in moments I expose their truth, the grayness of their true perception is boring. Sadly. But my flight begins to amuse me, I compare myself to a bird. A little difficulty, but so easy to get away from the dirt of the cold. I took it from the window. I want to drink with gas and sleep. And then watch the flaps of the snow-white wing. It’s time, it’s time… I will take my time getting ready – they will announce soon. How are you there? Smooth ice. With a minus? It’s cold? Maybe you’ll come? Come, take the blond dog and come, the ocean and I miss you. Let’s take a dip. A star in beach gold. Let’s indulge. We’ll drown with kisses. We’ll joke endlessly and crumple the snow-white. I’m dreaming. Again. Butterflies are fluttering there.
November
It blows cold. It pours, mingling with ice floes. It hits mercilessly on the weathered cheeks. It freezes in attempts to extinguish it. The repetition of meaningless stories is typical. It circles, it circles abandoned, the last, faded, from that autumn. Greedily under the outer collar, turning the heat into goose. More often, more often you don’t want to wake up in the cold. It’s slippery on the frozen surface, it blows cold. make their way. The mood is unbridled, at an unbalanced gallop, with sharpened horseshoes, with a rubber smile of politeness. Still abandoned, with her own fingers collapsing the roofs of the beginning of comfort, also boorishly cold, indifferent to strangers. By provoking only predatory things in response. Other characters of his closet are for those others, a little more well-mannered, a little more restrained, containing slices of affection. Appearance in the absolute is secondary, until the first sheet, then interest exclusively in the arranged, the presence of inner content.
Stone abodes flash in greetings, with their invented exclusive energy. In attempts to pretentiously change the incompatible, applying the theory of probability to others, puttying the sharp corners of aggression with silence and feigned politeness. The habit of sweeping off the counter exclusively what nourishes at the moment, so maybe it should be? Sucking out the remnants of warm energy, other people’s delights, returning to the silence of the den. Comforting myself with loneliness among the many positive and crystal-shattered on the occasion deeper. As long as there is enough air, climb after the drip with a constant rush of happiness, fun, admiration. I don’t wait any longer. But… I’m waiting, waiting, like a notorious, the last fool of romance. Alternating his vulgarity, kneading on the basis of implanted tenderness. A letter from the past, missed, on the box. Who writes such personal things now? “Initially, I did not believe her, imagine, I did not believe a single word. Smiling at windy hysterics, understanding, he tries to conquer his territory by force, exclusively by all methods. Putting on a fake face made of plastic. He smiled at the explanations, after midnight, barely on his feet, with a broken heel, she could hardly tie her tongue. Hardening, tightening the inner seat belts, holding back the pain at the lungs. Fragments of phrases, stories one after another, repeating each other, not coinciding with the previous ones, it is difficult to absorb lies, requires patience. Stepping on the larynx, in agony, without oxygen, returning in memory, cherishing the period when a piece settled inside, providing unlimited admission, let in a lump of her little. Warm furry hugs, and hell began. Now he could not just watch – he was tired of someone else’s party. Without ceremony in methods, texts, unfortunately, she was disgustingly brought up. Someone has to… Attempts to correct and show immediately, for the sake of cause and effect, to give the opportunity to feel, living, dipping, demonstrating by example. When one-on-one with oneself is clearer and tougher, without pity, on the mechanics. As soon as we are in the environment of loved ones, we allow pity, first of all, to ourselves, and they are in torrents, hail, uncontrollably. By analogy, how painful it is for everyone without exception when dirt oozes with actions, it is not so unfair – crying, tears, screams, the sunset rolls in.”
Slammed. “My friend, a bottle of grape tart and a glass – I will drink red. How are you doing? Alone inside? Does variety shows circle variegated? How tough it is inside. Without words. Happens. It’s quiet at the airport now. Few are in a hurry.”
Smells
Such a mood, I don’t perceive aliens from a different perspective lately. As if pulled out of childhood, breaking pink ones, no longer pulls into the circus. Clowns are no longer the same and do not joke so much, and the jokes are delusional, the outfit is shabby, and I already read inner sadness, there is no energy, they work out the hours, so previously loved. Sometimes you feel sad from new glasses. Developing the negatives of the photos. Share. I am interested in successful cases of perception for the repetition of sensations. Advise. Text, text, requirements, text, text, directing to the desired perception, gradually imposing convenient foundations with rules. Let us take care of the arrangement with expenses, the education of our future ones, and leave the fate of the hunter to the strong.
Irresponsibly trusting, they raise completely different people, imprisoned for their own interests, losing control, falling into hysterics, calling on the strong to impose their own rules. Out of curiosity, touching on the lines of history, the queens raise rude receivers, demolished from the throne as soon as the lion cub gets stronger, securing the receipt of indefinite allowance. in no way compatible with reality. Regular. Axioms. To preserve, to be in sufficient ignorance of thoughts, words, behavior, without trying to delve into the internal, but to use the proposed external, even if it is played for you, is not the point. Receiving tenderness in the moment, soft words with the palm of your hand, paying enough for service, not forgetting to leave a tip, not counting on more. Desires burst out, as before, to enjoy the delights experienced, soaking up energy, exchanges of what is said, lips are real. Exclusively focused on males. And mirror in the desire to be liked. Content that does not carry a pinch of reality, everything is light in statements, but emptiness in essence. Interest exclusively in the brilliant, compliments expressed, presence among luxury. Trusting by mistake. Penetrating, sucking data for analysis, accumulating only to overthrow. The bottom line is that initially no one is affectionate, it’s just that the situation in the moment made you bend the ego as a payment for being next to you – and where to put the predatory? The strongest difference is in the presence, where from ten to fifteen – everything else disappears, collapses, no longer nourishes.
Slammed. “Announced. Pore. Disheveled. Man, the bill, please, the whiskey is also mine. Count faster, boy. I’m in a hurry. I’m hungry. Tastes, smells are not the same. In the shower with hard jets. How are you? What’s new? A little stiffer inside. Stretched. I’ll be glad to see you, as before. I want a change of time. Let’s sit silently, a little. So. It’s surging. And around they are scurrying, scurrying in search of the ghostly. Splashing vulgar. I’m not a stranger to you, am I? Yes, Fool. But not someone else’s? It was empty inside, a little. Washed. This happens to me occasionally, I give up, sink to the bottom myself. Inky emptiness. The silence is dead. Nobody. So scary and calm inside. Relaxed hands, feet in the sand, immersion. Awhile. Pushes me out again. Fly in. Breathe a little fresh into me. Tired. Miss. I want to snuggle silently. Hear? Lips miss you.”
