spent by a psycho

Spent by a psycho, like a moth.,
Go out into the world white in the morning
Together with uncle fear, aunt pain,
Tablet in the bag, gray tufts.
And happily're running on its team bus,
Without memory happy that you are,
Without straining legs. That to the grave
Even saw Yes swimming through dimensional work.
What happiness, what words come
To immersed in the everyday life of the head,
That old verse, walked on the loose
Near Zhukovsky, with you not on you,
And pokes like poke in Hebrew,
That look "Cabinet" accidentally.
Until verbs "love" and " live"
As blown away by the wings on his shoulders.

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.

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