6. Vacuum Of The April's Waves
April Was Pining With An Inevitable End.
One Of Its Last Days Was Dying Away.
It's Dark, It's Light, Light...oh... I'm Maddening,
At The Faded Bottom.
In A Sound Of Slaps Of Falling Yellow Thikness, Raw Plaster
I'm Figuratively Looking For The Exit, But Can't Find It In Any Way.
This Period Buries The Ideas,
The Time Of Poor Vain Attempts, Of Careless Future.
Possibly, The Salvation Is To Find Myself In A Nocturnal Pulsation Of Platform Luminary,
Where The Steel Wheels Beat The Same Syncopes.
The Waves Are Empty, I Wish To Go Away!
I Want To Run!
Run
From Idiotic Discourses, Judgements,
From Empty Sullenness Of Eyes,
From Uncertain Gestures,
From Illegible Phrases.
To Go Away
From Beaten By Falseness Grimaces Of Consumers' Routine,
From People-plants,
From A Collector Called Life!
Let Me Go Away To The Upper Light Of Salvation!
The Whole Abstract April Was Marked By A Chemical Poisoning.
Accelerating For The Two Hundredth Time It Threw On A Lasso Of Remembrances.
Isolation, Paranoia.
Tables Of Memory Are Warped By Their Own Vacuum Of Look.
Vacuum Of The April's Waves.
Vacuum In The Thick Of Bodymotions.
Let Me Go Away To The Upper Light Of Salvation.
Let Me Go Away To The...
To Go There...
Let Me Go!!
Cold Barrel, Cool My Larynx!!!
Вверх