Иногда снятся ужасные сны. От них хочется убежать, но они всё равно находят нас. Я помню сон, о котором мне рассказывал друг... Он бежал по тоннелю, не зная куда... Он бежал вперёд, словно должен был спасти кого-то. И когда он наконец достигал некой точки, ему на руки падал он сам - мёртвый...
Иногда смерть говорит с тобой. Но часто лишь для того, чтобы сделать тебя сюжетом своей новой картины извращённой кровавой реальности...
Спи...
[показать]
Thy Last And Perfect Dream
Walking in the night
You sneak in light
From darkness claws
The chime of heels
On stone ground
Sounds around
You hurry up
The street is lorn
The street is cold
No moon is watching from the skies
Grey clouds of scars
Follow your walk…
And senseless eyes…
City seems be dead
No life in windows does dwell
Beyond the glass – the mirrored sand
Of desert of exhausted minds
You gaze around
No one is there
The only sound – chime of your heels
The empty space will never care
Who you are and where you go
But eyes do know…
Right ahead the smoke falls down
On the dirty urban earth
Right behind the water swallows
The Nothing – shouldn’t have been born…
Step…
It seems that you don’t move
Staying stiff and frozen in this cold
Finite life of stains and prayers of the crazed
Which dead were when they just had born
Attempt…
Conclusion never had
Its own start and misery of hearts
Contempt of wealth to poor
Lying in plague – the suffering of underworld
How our land is called…
Walking it the night
You try to strangle down thy fear
But hear again thoughts in your head
And see the streets – these halls of dead
Hundreds of same things round and around
Over and over scatter loud
Into the shadows of your sin
Which crawl to rape your virgin body
And waste of time to cry for help
And you tear off the dress you wear
And close your eyes feeling the spin
But see the same deserted streets –
These gray and stinking twilight crypts
Where faceless rape your stiffen being…
Or, maybe, it is just a dream…