no feelings

an introverted morning
a lukewarm coffee
I’m on the bus
you’re waiting

an airport
just quickly passing
meet me at the terminal
we’ll watch departing airplanes together
our minds
are also departing
in opposite directions
no hard feelings
no hard feelings

a therapy for losers
a monotonic skyline
of the City

a maculated night
a barren morning
I’m aimlessly fumbling in my pockets
you’re looking at the oversized baby
on the poster

no hard feelings
no hard feelings

no feelings

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go back to sleep

go back to sleep
it is only a mid-life crisis.

the irrelevant seer
in the purple pajamas
is expounding multiplication
to the marinated eggs in the jar.

(I saw him today, around the corner
next to a caramel peanuts stand)

while you’re calculating your chances
to raise identical twins
from a surrogate mother.

go back to sleep
it is only a mid-life crisis.

you practicing tantric sex
while holding a bowl with a gold fish
on top of your head.

I practice shooting crumpled dollars
from a bamboo blowgun.

(you call it a karma
I call it the fire rate).

go back to sleep
it is only a mid-life crisis.

there is no magic pill
that’ll teach you to play Zigeunerweisen
on the E minor harp.

and the ontological argument
is merely a proposition
to those who afraid to feel.

go back to sleep
it is only a mid-life crisis.

let’s drink for that

and at dawn
we’ll drink!
we will forget about our past
and temporary present
let’s drink for our future!
(imaginary future though)
let’s drink for that!

we’ll vote a flower pot
for president
and stop old wars
but after
we will start some new ones
let’s drink for that!

we’ll turn to ruble granite pedestals
that our forefathers were standing on
we’ll kick old friends out to the streets
but welcome new ones
our revolutionary vomit will wash away
the dust of outdated values
but won’t leave a clear spot for any new
let’s drink for that!

hurrah! hurrah!
we’ll preach self-sacrifice
and quietly observe a mother stoned
and brothers losing their heads
for our bright future
that our kids will have to build
on a vacuum of our bragging
let’s drink for that!

and in the dusk
we’ll lay our tired heads
on dirty door mats
stained with vomit
and our children
carry us in their hands
to rest in peace
from our ‘heroic’ revolutions
they probably won’t drink for that…

I am not

stop preaching me about humanism
because I am not a humanist
I believe in God
you can’t believe in God
and believe in humanity
at the same time
I could try,
but I will not
as long as history will repeat itself

don’t tell me that I am angry,
because I am not,
don’t see a reason to be
– true,
I refuse to lie to myself
and convince myself
to appreciate our moral values
how can I appreciate something
that goes against my free will
that tells me to be somebody
who I am not.

I cannot.

awakening #2

last drops of rational
dissolved by the intestinal juice
vodka & the hot sauce

as the nights are getting shorter
awakening into the reality
becomes less painful
as you didn’t slip the whole night

numbness is blessed
aftertaste of the hangover
reminds you that you’re alive

perception of the yesterday
is still in the soggy air
good morning & good night
self pity is for losers
have a Coke