35th Floor

There are only shadows here... Shadows of bodies.
We are not here, or we are not valued. Like we're out of work.
They are called others. Like blue.
There are completely different values ;;here: degeneration disguised as Renaissance.
Nothing new, everything is as usual: bare walls and shoulders.
Half-filled nail heads.
Only scribbled inscriptions clumsily await guests.
Among them there are often sharp faces. Reminiscent of open windows in a building without an elevator.
Have you been here by any chance? And in Jerusalem or Constantinople?
And in the northern Chinese capital...
...They don't have yellow faces at all. No more than in a remote and mountainous province, where Lao Tzu was born and raised.
Let’s say I also live like an animal, like lying down.
I'm afraid of too much light and attention. I fall on my face like a light shadow! It licks everyone...
It is afraid of everything and everyone. Like that flower made from cheap colored marmalade.
This is how it was taught: you should always be afraid. Especially hungry virgins who are ready to give themselves up for the exhalation of fumes.
When you tiptoe out, silently squirming, like dying,
avoiding glances from the mirrors, a silhouette that has no smell and depth,
a dry leaf or a deep sense of guilt, blind pearls and shabby skin,
blind pearls and peeling banana peels, an abundance of demi-season shoes and avocado fruit,
the clock chimes lazily, like for nothing, in Lenin’s empty house. Serves you right...
Let's look down. Only at the same time. With complete absence of cornice rattle
let's catch the moment. Like f*cking awesome!
They say this is how a blood clot comes off. And that this is an attempt to escape from the torture of pain,
wallowing in vomit in a small homeland.
Hitting the nailed-up coffin with his bloody forehead: “I don’t believe, he’s alive, respond, Nik!”.
...This is me about the phenomenon of first love for the last bitch.
About the struggle for her lenient attention as for a suspended sentence in court.
...In the last word it is better to remain silent. Can you monotonously list the diagnoses: gonorrhea, hepatitis C, schiz...
And an audience of sadistic will clap for you. The “nodders” nod joyfully: hammer!, the hero of our wonderful time!, boldly looks down from the 35th floor!