She miss you

© Lerysol, 2024

ISBN 978-5-0064-7156-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Morning

Autumn is quiet, pampered. Early morning. Anticipation. Deceptive. The past are unaccustomed. Absolutely different perception. Occasionally a predator is eager to take what previously belonged, after 5, 7, 9 switching to childish harmlessness vulnerable. Fear with cold. Chains, a whip stopped the hanging one. Beats in rage from the restrictions of other weak. Sunny. Windless. Smells of rain in autumn. Sleepy, condensed, stretchy. A star among the snow-white linen. Plans for movement. birds, smells, movements in the given. Slowly, with a little aggression, but with fresh air. The day off is started. French ones tickle with melodies. The text of the servants, gossip, suggesting that their solitude among the tables is not disheveled.

Silence. Streams of cold, hungry, bite in, awakening, cutting Morpheus’ webs. There are similar, similar, having a quiet breakfast. By themselves, fascinating, slightly sloppy, gentle smiles from observations, discharges run along the wires, nourishing. Not of this world, or something, having pecked, they fell.

And at the next table they write. Gluing letter to letter. Fingers knock out a tap dance, click. The patterns of the big one on the screen are woven intricately lace, with hints of gray. Remembering that no one ever sincerely loves little men with a feather, by analogy with tassels, they will not shake hands until they themselves rise from the breath of fresh. Funny. Allow themselves criticism, rude with disdain. Until millions of other spoiled people bend the knee, With applause. Those past ones, as previously described more than once by others, will change, releasing thousands of words about their immense devotion, rattling hollow. Suddenly remembering the connections. Walking your character vulnerable. So early, so early, everyone sleeps, shuddering. French silence reigns in the café in autumn. He indulges. Waves of thoughts, one after another, rolled in, splashing. Espresso is a legal drug that bites into the blood vessels, sharpening perception, smiling brighter, immersing one’s own vessels in a state of rest, letting windy content pass by, absorbing the energy of a comfortable night, letting go for a while of care.

“I slammed it shut. What’s wrong with you? A little calmer? Or does it seem so? Does the storm subside a little or does it seem again? Waves of words roll in. Write if it’s cold. And I fly further, maybe my past life affects me – as a migratory bird. A little bit of emotions, upsets, guilt. Playing with the past in messengers. Tickets are bought. Alone again, well, with you through thousands. Silence, I begin to love its shades. Do not strain the superfluous with their complexes. Gradually looking, plunging deeper behind the scenes, into others who smell of strength, analyzing more and more, I find hundreds of similarities in their habits, childhood fears, being in a state of resentment, immuring themselves in closets. They smelled of grayness with suspicion, the chaotic nature of reckless thoughts, subject exclusively to their own logic. Interpreting what is happening, they use only gray-black ones. I’m a little tired of dancing in someone else’s dance. I want your tenderness. Snuggle deep, deep into the embrace, in appearance, but not strong at all. Kissing, longing, with hungry lips, the bristles of the weekend of permissiveness.”

Speed

The ball is in his own worries. Launching thousands of recognized professors, endowed with paper diplomas, with monograms, climbing, sorting out seeds, billions of theories, in an attempt to get to earthly sustenances. Following the rules, setting the bar of prosperity for everyone’s respect. Out of thousands, one or two will survive, will be of interest to the managers of billions, will allow them to get another diploma. By directing the worthy to the next increase in golden candy wrappers, accelerating bloodthirsty progress, unquestioningly leading to extinction, taking into account history – no chance of survival. Destroying an extraordinary, favorably different from the rest in the galaxy, a ball of magical beauty. Some are funny. Like moles, they buy Swiss bunkers in a selfish desire – just to keep their own. Lonely and ill-mannered sociopaths huddle in fear. Having given his soul to animal hunger, to the whims of others, to the worship of nakedness to those who reign. They give priority to accelerating progress in calculations, reducing previously created professions, throwing the next millions into the streets, natural polite extermination, not caring about their training, providing a minimum income for survival, giving rise to the hatred of cold hunger. To the facts. Nobel Prize. “One of the geniuses of quantum entanglement called it a passion at a distance. But the most mysterious and inexplicable phenomenon of this amazing microcosm is precisely the phenomenon of quantum entanglement. This is when two elementary particles that have the same origin or have previously tied themselves in knots of love, turn out to be not only connected to each other (in a completely inexplicable way), but also interdependent. Even if there are hundreds and thousands of kilometers between them. So if you know the state of one particle, you can predict the state of another with absolute certainty.” Simply put, confusing, stupid particles can seem to “communicate” with each other and influence each other, giving away much-needed energy in the moment in the depression of another loved one. Stopping in an instant the chaotic whirlpool of frantically rushing thoughts, depression, panic attacks, fear of uncontrolled trains – thoughts as if abandoned by train drivers. In the future, getting rid of the cynical chemistry of pharma, psycho-rights, often with an absolute lack of desire to cure. The goal is exclusively for planting.

“I slammed it shut. As always, it is difficult, with riddles. What are you talking about? How are you? Miss. When will you understand that for ordinary human happiness you need to be just the two of you? Soaking up the looks. Amused with tenderness. To the point of animal boredom. Yes, I know, I’m looking for one myself. Spoiled. Stupid. Probably not loyal. Soaking up the changing faces, as in the subway, the next arrives after the next. A star until noon in snow-white sheets. Unstable. I drink burgundy, occasionally I alternate with gases. Selfish. Exciting. I’m having fun with the ocean. I dissolve in flights, reboot in the silence of peace. Friendship with the mirror. Showcases with approval content in social networks. So funny and sad, exhausted, confused. Will you come? Really. Fly in. Cut off the excess. Want to. Kiss. Fill. Plexuses. Tenderness.”

Fabulous

Touched? To the silk of her flowing hair. And she? Graceful with a black cougar. With what? With a magical charm. And then? Penetrates to the lungs, forbidding you to breathe without command. Soft shades of eyes. How so? Stunning. Natural with inner beauty, knocking you off your feet. A great rarity. And if? Sensitive care. Sincere, truthful, bewitching openness. Maybe? Cheerful, active. Loyal, devoted. Thrifty and neat. Different. Not to take away? Graceful with curves. Stunning. Driving mad muffled purr. With the velvety timbre of his voice. It is special for its uniqueness. She was brought up with human values. Even? Waking up with languid kisses. Dear, dear. Feminine. Intoxicating. So it happens? Plunges into insomnia. Charming carelessness, filled with curiosity. Mischievous. Charming in the delights of children. Excited. Amazing taste in the choice. Melodious voice. Magical imagination. Read. And in a moment? Predatory. A tigress dominating. Playful. Pampering. Carat treasure. Irresistible. Cat, hot, with an unbending will. Stunning. Mad in devotion, alternating sincerity Bored. Sarcastic to the situation. Well-read, appealing to quotations recognized by eternity. Priceless. Unique, unique in its uniqueness. The brilliance of intoxicating pupils fascinates. So strong? Dizzying. Brilliant. Fragrant. Impeccable in choice. Incomparable in greatness. Fantastic, incomprehensible in its facets. Amazing. Going mad, giving the last. Withering away by thousands, withering. Captivating with delicate features, radiant skin. Intoxicatingly daring. Permeated with sunny Rays. With an implanted sense of tact.

Slammed. “Is this about me? Miss. Please… Hey, man, if possible, count my losses at this table. Bring the bill, you see? And if possible, do not delay, they have already announced the landing. Airport. Vanity. Voice. Parting. Empty, with drops of Scottish wine – also on me. And at my expense, for the next one, for that girlfriend of champagne. I’m flying. I’m running in the next, from the next, squeezed out. Shackled by fears from merciless time, takes away from… youth. I want to remain the same windy and indifferent to the cynical, flying from branch to branch, changing islands with waves, mixing coordinates made up by someone impeccable. How are you? As before, are you laughing, playing around? Your winter is completely constrained. Freezing out the remnants of heat, forgotten, left. Fly in. Let’s chat under the stars behind the degrees. We will exchange kisses, slightly touching the tips of our lips. We will dissolve later in vulgarity, merging, digging, biting. Come dear, I miss you. Do you hear?”

And in the remainder…

Autumn is fallen, unstable to the temptations of the strong. It takes so long to assemble an internal constructor before filling yourself with enough mistakes, crowns, wounds, blows, ups and downs and plunging into a pit of despondency. And again the strong row, leaving what has cooled, unfastening those who pull back, taking more air into the lungs. In search of their own kind for distance, according to unclouded everyday views, inner content, physical forms, large-scale dreams, readiness to sacrifice for the sake of achievement. For a long time, all actions, words, tears with emotions have been rewritten and described in multi-page books. With an understanding of the stereotyped nature of each traveler encountered on the way, with his own personal path, intersecting for a segment of a moment, someone taking his time sniffing, not letting him get close, someone running into the pool, scooping up the whole palette with cuts, the problems always have several solutions, the choice is different. With the comfort and similarity of the paths, connecting to short ones, following the path to difficult ones of their own, it is successful if together they go out to solve problems, creating projects for projects, and again inevitably disperse, having suffered the energy of everyone, having learned the best or learned to recognize the worst, touching what it is like to be together in a bundle. In fact, most of them remain far away, nothing changes, interest in the physical, and over time, a strong feeling that the diversity of models has been explored has penetrated. Heating is different, maintenance requirements are different – and, accordingly, consumption appears after rust strikes, regardless of the perfection of the shamans. Being unaware of how deeply I penetrate inside. The game always begins politely, with a smile, without vulgarity and hints, simply and humanely, without thoughts of how…

And what about the remainder? A piece of memory with pictures of eccentricity, thinking about a man’s embrace, in a heap of disordered thoughts, the absence of a book under the pillow.

And what about the remainder? The other one will remain fiery, having crept in from the pages of Hemingway, wild bright predatory, penetrating like a cat inside, enveloping with sparks, with madness of 0.5, and cynicism smelling of feigned confidence, of ridiculous permissiveness.

And what about the remainder? She, offering traps with the interests of the night, by her actions in the mishmash awakening only the predatory, silent with fear, silence, inappropriately uttering the superfluous, with a core, manipulating the external, pretending to be different, exclusively for her own pleasures, awakening mortal boredom, with black and gray profiles, with selfish, superficial, stupid interests.

And what about the remainder? It will remain unusual, special for the market of manufacturers, with an overestimate. Still admiring someone else’s fog of content, someone else’s clang of high-speed mustangs, curtaining the envy hidden under thousands of covers. She has not been trained to protect herself – to protect her with her palms. Once again, missing, not noticed for a fleeting cup. Only the whip and the pedal was pressed, fears and eternal breakdowns, inherited, only aggression turned into something special, from the heat of the flame exquisite forms were acquired. Fading over time, floundering in its own puddle.

And what about the remainder? That. Fiery, unbridled, snow-white, belligerent, turning into a purring cat in moments, continuing to search for pleasure on the ball, burdened with external fears, crammed inside with sticks.

And what about the remainder? That. Other. With childhood as an adult, with thoughts spied on, the showcase version is simplified to the maximum, the external shine with scales with charms.

And what is left? Nothing changes. Drawing from the content offered by recognized writers of the past, they offer to switch the perception of reality with icy glasses of old alcohol. Ridiculously praising certain ones, instilling confidence about behind-the-scenes contracts with manufacturers. The truth beats against the glass, scattering feathers: the hopelessness of the ebb tide, it is not written, there are not enough geysers to start the engines. Not funny, not sad, just silence. The places are favorite, the order for repit is long. The following movements are planned. So the weather outside the huge windows without surprises, offers a sunny salad, adding coolness for taste, weathering. It’s funny, the hired characters, in fact interested in new breakfasters, shamelessly smit, gently hinting at the undesirability of the presence of new ones. To amuse yourself with the circus, offering an awkward character in return, watching the reaction of the chirpers – nothing serious.

Slammed. “Announced for landing. Waiter, bill. Write, write, heartfelt… When only for me? On the understandable, without… On the IZ, it is impossible without connecting additional processors for comprehension. Moreover, gas with caviar does not allow you to concentrate. Thought. As long as my fish Dory is in my memory. I caught myself scrolling, or maybe I don’t need to think deeply with you, but on the bark the norm comes, something in the moment touches, captures, captivates, burns, laughs, pampers, something incomprehensibly superfluous spills out, if there is a desire – I will come back again, and now on the same wavelength it turns out to surf with you. Amusingly. Yes, a bottle of champagne is also mine, consider it. I’m trying to change the external, to occupy the internal with slightly different thoughts. I’ve chosen a fabulous place for myself, I’m flying in anticipation of magic. I’ve fallen in love with the reviews of my friends, I’m lost, like a little girl, in the Hello Kitty store, among the photos. I’ll digress. Why are you silent? Yes, I’ve been invited. I’ll try to distract myself from you. Yes, I miss you. Yes, it’s not eternal, exchanging physical pampering for candy wrappers, not letting in the superfluous. that I feel your waves in the distance… I touch my lips to the prickly… inhaling the smell of her own body, hiding in her arms, kissing her fingertips. Yes. Simply. I missed you.”

Mud

Autumn. Stupid. Rainy. Upset. Unbalanced by outbursts. Sounds of a harsh howling, northern. Slushy with minus tears. Softening for a moment, then gray again into despondency. More painful. Cold blows inside. Hurts even less externally. Hunger of the target in the prior. Suggests a refined response to the possible. Goals are outlined. Paths are outlined with rough strokes. Fogs of interpretations. Sublime invincibility, although history says otherwise, some four hundred moments ago. desires for greatness, rediscovering dusty chronicles, history is ruthless, erasing the feigned for a thousand years, putting new empires on the map. The desire to elevate prevails in every scepter holder, on both sides. But it is a rarity to find among them one who, by exalting himself, improved the education of his subjects, who smelled of creation. Clanging. Depression makes its way through, devours the mind with stench. Taking into service the next ones with the appearance of cheerful people, with expired certificates of healing. How can you cure something broken? Born in fears, shivering from any sounds that exceed the decibels of a whisper. Glue, tighten the destruction with cables? Slush, dirt, emotions. Generation. Fortress? Just ossified habits. They were brought up from childhood under oppression, a meat grinder under the pressure of leaders. With age, they seek and find idols drowning in the shine of rented gold, similar to those of the past, crushing, grinding. Without them, it is uncomfortable, cravings, boredom without pain and humiliation are unusual, hunger without the absence of dirt. Having found it, they will continue to serve, complaining about their difficult fate and the injustice of their idols. Knocking faceted, on stools starved. And again at dawn, putting on a cheerful face. Thousands of unsuccessful attempts to please others, feigning attention mixed with jokes with nonsense, saturating them with their own truthful lies, bursts of suffering, feeding afterward, swallowing, without chewing, like a hungry animal, self-pity, and then again hunting in a pack with predators. Politely neglecting sympathizers, with their inopportune influx of human actions. Not all the lashes of sarcasm have yet been laid on the mark, the night is still raging with mold, not yet fully saturated with mockery and neglect, the mad flesh asks for torture again and again. Sobs are muffled by autumn howls. How would they get out? Shopping. The delights of Grey Friday. These are dresses of successful faces in a plague boutique. The collection has been updated. Spoiled. It is striking about thebreadth of facial expressions, today everyone is at the promotion, all of the latest plastic ones are a collection of minimalism of harmless botox injections on sale, the leftovers are declared at the price of the previously cosmic one. smile for social rounds. Dolls always like to dress expensively. Emptiness, only the howling of the autumn hungry wind, primordial.

Slammed. “And I’m a star. And you’re hard again. It’s cold. We have a deep night. A spoiler splashes, flirts with me in waves. I miss your kisses. Your lips with a Scottish smell. Your own to the thread for your own quilted soul. Strangers parade nearby, demonstrating cubes, others – opportunities, still others – just unceremonious Neanderthals. True, I miss you. I want sincere tenderness. Tips of your fingers on the neck, I shudder. I drink, it’s easier to meet the sunset for a while alone in a noisy company. for privacy. My boredom is my only devoted friend. I want you. How are you? Come. Do you hear? Come.”

Want to…

It sweeps so painfully, it sweeps so coldly, it sweeps so mercilessly. Snowflakes melt on scarlet cracked ones. Nostrils feel the approaching shadow of action, but it is still calm in the snow-covered forest. The content is dropped daily for Dory fish, updated yesterday, tirelessly hammering with sounds, alternating with pictures from the receivers. Thousands wander in search of their own dog – a devotee, in his teeth with packages. Preferably well-bred, with accomplished prosperity, with care, with responsibility, with night fireworks, obedient. Exposing the sincerity periodically bought at the flea market, into the pool, where, according to rumors, there are selected ones. In a race in similar windows, in a demonstration of top happiness, strained. Casting floats with bait far away, sifting the catch through large cells, releasing small ones to grow, fluttering with fins, at a given level not according to requests. Although demonstrating to others, they evaluate with the prospect of growth, so there is not enough time to put everything on red. Bites happen, short-term nights are saturated with passions, but without implantation, the line breaks, the bamboo does not withstand, there is not enough strength to hold it, age is robbed by slices with wrinkles. Want…

I want Swiss food today at breakfast. I want to be naked, only wrapped in downy ones, with royal monograms. Wander among the deserted floors in snow-white marble, admiring the rock from the paintings of those who look. I want envy, sincere bestial envy of those hungry friends, former, from the recent past. I want white sand with a reed shack from a thousand, serving turquoise, quietly splashing. I want to spend with insane passion, from his endless map of permissiveness, cheating over and over again. I want not to drown myself, but in sparkling gifts, to bask in, paying in return with sparks of gratitude from the pupils. I want to experience not the vulgar aftertaste of owning property, but to plunge all the needles into delight at the moment of admiration, in seconds – writing out, throwing a label – sold. I want to enjoy unconscious from the cellars with mold wines with four figures, dancing my own to the beats of the guests from Ibiza. I want to enter, pass, fly, dissolve the indecently guarded, in absolute meeting only polite, inclined. I want to rule over those in caps, reversing the warlike, subduing thousands to gentle whims. I want not to get bored with admiration, the desire to admire, the expectation of the next miracles, to have daily happiness, endless portions. There are no boundaries in desires, there are no boundaries in desires.

Slammed. “How are you? Do you have someone? Do you remember me? Will you come? Maybe dial? Write? Am I strong? I know that she is a strong girl for someone, for you. I roar like a beluga, howl from the loneliness of the cold at the equator. Miss. I empty the bar periodically. A serf with a board. Occasionally the kite rushes into blue, I fly up to the clouds, write out, play with the old woman, get by. Adrenaline is off the charts. I drink it again, with black, oil, black. I try to escort random ones with torsos out for the night, in the royal snow-white one – with a star. A beach dog nailed down – bony from hunger, silent loyally, fattening, swallowing without chewing. He is silent, peering into his eyes, sitting next to him under the stars, bribing with modesty, quietly, quietly creeping in short steps. I’m getting used to it. I remember us being the same, kicking snobbery. They threw themselves on the remains of the table left behind, remember? Happiness. We danced excitedly, remember? Throw. I’ll snuggle up to the unshaven one. I’ll kiss you. Bad. Bored.”

Snow

Crackles. Cold. Penetrates, cooling through the windows. Icicles make their way through crystals. A dozen duvets do not save. Firewood is thrown, the flame greedily swallows, demanding to throw fatigue in return. I am engaged for eight hours by definition complete stupidity, after which – to the home on the conveyor. Satisfying the hunger in the entertainment of the inhabitants. In fact, a gear in an ancient machine with a status, which does not change anything for the warmth of the ball. In an instant, slightly slowing down the predatory speed, to be replaced, cynically, without tenderness. What am I trying to achieve? Sufficiency? Recognition. A dozen compliments. Palms, palms. Prestigious place on a branch. That’s funny. I rake out a knapsack with candy wrappers in a moment, as soon as I plunge into inspiration. There, a little higher, albeit with grins, but politeness, without sudden movements, without axes, without pushes into the abyss, not because they were brought up, but only for the halo of reputation. Down there, hunger is still being eaten indiscriminately, in batches, maintaining equanimity at the top and creating the comfort of the environment, in oblivion, turning off the sober furiously clapping, smashing their hands into the blood in desire a little closer, closer, sticking out the rough at the first one. The absolute is at a loss, the leaves of the calendar are falling. Crumpled. Paper napkin, stained, waiting for the trash can. The luxury of participating in third-party decorations, only for a vacuum evening before bedtime, other people’s travels, peeping through the lock with a subscription to the series of a bitten apple. Again. Nobody believes it. Motley advice angers with inadequacy. Upset. Dig. I sort it out. I alternate. Having chosen a men’s sport, I am a little upset. I wake up, rummage through the closet of discarded outfits, trying on another mood for the audience, assuming to be met, noticed, marked. Complete your cycle of tasks on mechanics for a handful of candy wrappers on plastic at the end of the next calendar finish. Friends in pain deep after midnight, each with cuts, pride, ghostly grandeur, devastated by loneliness. I don’t want to pull out the sickly, pinched by their own fears. I drink velvet-tart grape wine. Jogging to splashes. I read rarely, more often I throw it away – it doesn’t work, or maybe it’s not enough collected to perceive reviews. I get offended, thinking, I keep something in myself that still shudders warmly. I cry with the blizzard in unison. I open the windows at night for the fresh silence of the twilight. So sometimes I get tired of loneliness. with a shade of unkindness. I smell far-fetched danger everywhere. The scene is disgusting from time to time, I want it without pretense, I just want to be a little girl, upset, whiny, with sobs, with hysterics, with stroking the palm of a man’s hand affectionately, with simultaneous stomping of the foot, letting go of the barbs from the desire for even stronger hugs, breaking out.