The hexagon

I

Your name is the only sound I ever trust,
A fever of the plague, a smell of lust,
My prodigy, my dew, my joy of sorrow,
Most wonderful mistake, that I have made,
My treasure, a reason of my fate,
A perfect void which uses call "tomorrow".

My cure, my curse, a smile of pain,
A burning subterranean airplane...
If the whole world is stopped, come on and loop it!
My blowing flame, my desperate divine,
A bleeding heart repeats that you are mine
So loud, so clear, so strong, so fucking stupid.

II

I packed my things for a trip to nowhere,
No matter how close I come, you’re afar,
Now when our common dream is over,
Tell me, how happy yet you are?

I’d like to be getting drunk, but truly
Just sobering with every drop,
I’m a real passenger and ruler,
Like Odysseus and Iggy Pop.

My blood’s an outstanding marker,
I’m broke in bad and going through,
But yet, I always want it darker,
Like mister Cohen used to do.

This morning I’ve got up at seven,
I washed my soul and dressed as well,
I’m singing on my path to heaven,
By going strictly to the hell.

III

I'm growing up, but I never get older,
And I have to hold you, I need to hold you,
You're always crying. What should make you stop?
Why won't you go the path that I follow?
I'm getting smaller! Gosh! Smaller and smaller...
And you're getting older but not growing up.

IV

My mind is wide, but soul is slim,
There's no me, only them or him.
Come in! And take my blood, my skin! —
I'm yours without and within.

V

Your look shakes my flesh and bones,
Don’t ask me, Sphinx, because you are a lumen,
Just one more sigh and I’ll be gone,
I know the answer is “A human”.

The life and evil are side by side.
Who makes us doing it? Who did us?
I’m feeling like already blind,
Deprived of questions or ideas…

VI

If I were Noah, language’d be an ark
With couples of participles and nouns,
With simple verbs and other savage sounds,
To save them from the tongueless water-dark.
 
What should I say, when I will feel the ground?
None, but the undeciphered cry of glory,
It would be just beginning of a story,
A flash of pigeon wings around.

Yet after all this cry what might I say?
As all those words I hardly brought together
Became an echo, just a cloud of feather,
That took the sense and simply passed away.