***

Blood and sweet lies,
A bacchanalia of passion and long nights.
You, like a beast, dig a pit for yourself from
My green eyes,
Half;closed and frozen in erotic bliss.
I dream of winter and snow,
Which will be my bed and shelter from the heat and rain.
Tell me why you need me,
What I’ll add to your collection of depraved nymphs —
Only the rigidity of my judgments and my dull old;fashionedness.
Like an ice cube in a glass
You're like the last immortal hero.
In a half-closed window frame at night.
I'm sorry, dear, but I've been dead for a long time, I've fallen into disrepair in this crazy drama.

Your skin is like ice, and your smile is like a knife.
You don't like the scorching sun, your words are all lies.
Even eleven bullets, even an aspen stake,
They won't take you, arbitrariness won't help.
You’re glaring, searching for a victim to taste,
I’ll lie, I’ll tell Mom I’ll be back by lunchtime.
Mom won’t be waiting for me. My hands are in chains.
And there are terrible scars on my snow;white hands.
Your puppy;like nature is just a mask.
You’re as cruel as a boa constrictor. You won’t let yourself be fooled.
You’ve clamped down with your fangs, tearing the flesh until it bleeds.