EMONA Ship-Restaurant

He does not feed me ... with the hoarseness of his empty table. Above you lies a curse ... of hungry. And I'm not enough to do it... Your soft - scarce half - to a knife ... scraped, and in it - worms. Those, the woody ones. Following them is only their rotten ash. Are you offering me crumbs ?! These are ... piles of ash, remaining after your heart ... Don 't fuck me. I will not have dinner with the harshness from your empty table. Rather, over you I will be weighing ... Like bread. And it will make you cool ... The lavish dinner, which is a chimera and ... expectation ... To satiety - in your hungry autumn.