From small cutouts

A puzzle is formed

Like sea waves, one to another

Pieces float up…

Only my hands are still red

Dark scissors cut

My soul

To create

A small bird

On a large sheet of paper.

Blue, scarlet, transparent white

Lymph, blood and muscles

Anatomy of sadness

Of forgotten things and dreams,

I sit on a dark carpet

made of old dog hair pile

And it seems to me that the world

is spinning under my hands,

Like on a swing

From childhood, I write in the air

A few words

From many fragments,

Fall down on old slabs

forming a collage

Time flows down like arrows

Into the daytime.

I gave you a flower,

But its leaves withered.

I wanted to say the words I love,

But my lips were silent…

Dawn pierced the sea with arrows,

And the fish rose from the depths-

And when you saw tears in my eyes,

You understood that I love you-

Then I hugged and kissed

long dark hair,

To forget myself forever

in your thoughts.

They are all against you,

speaking in different voices.

Tied up, hobbled like a horse

And whisper in your ears

Trying to break your will-

But something, like another mind,

Looks at them

and without saying a word,

Catches the figures,

moving them from black to white,

from white to black.

It is impossible to track the move,

And they all fall,

Like toys

Into the abyss

where there is only death.