She miss you

Are there such people?

You need such a stranger. Incomprehensible. Special. Eccentric? Self-sufficient. Generous. Cheerful. Kind. Indulgent to whims. Not like others. Predatory. Bright. Charismatic. Caring. Self-nourishing. Loving. Tall. Big. Ambitious. Strange? Stranger? Stranger by the fire. Frozen wood of hypocrisy. Proclaiming loneliness, if without similarity. In the glimpses of the fire, trying to see those who are alike, a little bit, a thread, a cell, a little similar. into the fire – let them crackle, but they will dry out. Scattering the accumulated diamonds, they are worth nothing in the complete silence of the vacuum. Only stars, splashes of the sleeping ocean, tangerines, silence with sand. But the wounds that are with them nourish the bandages. He howled coldly, asking to leave his loved ones. Punishing the shameless, predatory, ill-mannered, at the first stage, not letting their sewer stupidity come closer. There are them, strange, not subject to influence, absent in the nets, with their own opinion, without haste, they do not voice aloud, more often observing the habits of others, sifting. Ridiculous are fears, clogging the planks of the closets of the past, attempts to bury, forgetting that sprouts always break through the rubble of cobblestones, fear of dating, fearing submission, no courage. Grinning, driving into hysterics, only to indicate the boundaries of politeness, it is common for spoiled people to break the boundaries out of boredom. Sometimes, plunging into the circus of gallopers, choosing an angle to capture the successful, participating in the emptiness of the, they select after, swarming, one out of a thousand for external likes. They were brought up by shamelessly irresponsible parental invested greatness, significance, lulled by windy compliments, and then, abandoning one, spreading their paws as much as possible in bewilderment, similar to how after the five-year plan of the higher without a parachute they abandoned with obsolete luggage, unclaimed. Stepping along their own path, whistling with a smile. Immersing themselves in the new, testing hypotheses exclusively in practice, turning off their own clues of smells. Mirroring, mirroring shamelessly, strangers, picked up on the go. Knowingly assuming the imperfection of feelings by years of cultivated touch. Not paying attention to the uncomfortable, brushing aside over time, weighing the aftertaste. Maybe he was not right, she thought she was too exclusive, perhaps there were those who wrote their own. But fears also fetter them. It would be hard together, and we would be beautiful, weighed by adulthood or young at heart inside, not paying attention to passport passports, but we are, as we are. Everyone has their own path, and it is possible that somewhere in a dozen they will cross by chance because of the threads that bind.

Slammed. “How are you? Miss. How about you? How are you? A little warmer? Melted. Sun? Not a cloud? Sport? Pages of books? Girls? Bits? Dance? Do you still meet the sunrises? Fly. Sent. Inconsistency. I recognize it in moments. Attempts to buy for cheap. Fly in. Do you hear?”

Cappuccino

The bar is sublime among others. Devastated by degrees, beaten with bats, as if with veins, beef, tired. Fine porcelain, silver utensils sparkle with sparks. A dozen unwashed cups with the remains of Colombian wine, disorderly. Quarrelling, attempts to guess on the squeezed, fondant traces are violet, pale scarlet, pink, carelessly smeared. caressing the lobes. There are no loud words. Fatigue. Sleepy, early, the vaults are zeroed out. Bar, twilight, tones are muffled. The murmur of the words of the tired has ceased, during the night the vocal voices are squeezed out, touching with drunken lips, the tip of the tongue is exhausted, kisses coral, in the cart exchanging in the absence for other ways. Gossipy. Discussing black holes, twinkling stars, manicure ruined, the price of leather, recommended for plastic, other checks. at the bar for gifts and drinks, pay with mysterious currency: “Sorry”, “I’m sorry”, “I’m not interested”, “We are different”, “That’s how I feel at the moment”. Partings are five minutes long until the next moments of boredom, and only when exhausted, another predatory weave with clothes torn off the sheets with languid sighs. And again thin fingers are intertwined, hanging on the remnants of warmth, giving away the last remnants of second-hand clothes. So occasionally there are similar in perception, comfort in the exchange of cobwebs of words, sarcasm. The copper bell on the door peacefully sniffs, silence penetrates the arteries like poison. No one goes in and out, there is no strength. Heavy, unwieldy bar shops froze, holding softness, balancing with balance, exposing the holes in tights, sleeping grays. Those rare moments – thoughts froze, switchmen exhaled on the tracks, tired of sorting out the chaos of the oncoming swarm of trains. A rare peace inside – they switched to neutral. Twilight, the candles, melted, went out. A mess of bodies, a mess of glasses left behind. Love of loneliness. Unfinished, young, unceremoniously red argues with long-aged, single-malt, seasoned: “I am dear, refined and beautiful, only recently plucked. How can I be equal to you? And the smell, the smell, phew, man. How dare you with me at all?.. Know your place.” Not paying attention, it continues to spread, absorbing, merging into one with the blood flows, ohintoxicating, capturing for a long time, feeling that it has not yet fully saturated the degree. It gives off grains. The bar is tired. The bar requires new energy after sleep. A cup of cappuccino, thrown on the bar, milky-fresh innocence, whole, untouched. Looking around with fright – not so long ago cooked. Is it in it that happiness is hidden? Silence. A pile of bodies without energy is sleeping. A pile of brands, views, a hunger for exquisite entertainment. It’s cooled down. Maybe, among others, someone likes a cold drink? Left alone.

Slammed. “Again, as always, it is difficult. How are you? Sunny? Spring? Chirping birds? And I’m flying again. Young man, bring the bill. Announced. Pore. Laugh. And again I fly in search of myself, long-term comfort. I calculated the previous ones. I asked from the edge at the porthole. The clouds are playing with me. How are you? It happens. I read other people’s made-up stories. I started jogging along. Feet get stuck. The ocean is flirting. Young pink lifts. Fire cares. You are missing. Miss. Fly in. Do you hear?”

Rainy

Rain. Beats. Beats. Beats. Shameless. Vulgar. Narcissistic. Peeps. Laziness, shackled mercilessly, does not let go of the limbs. Envelops. Champagne of yesterday is a fog. Down blankets are crumpled, scattered. Pillows cry with the remains of the lip. Tights are torn in several tears. Sleepy. Tired of meetings with templates. More and more among the services meetings with secretive sociopaths, amusingly disguising themselves with the matter of politeness, especially getting bogged down in the codes of technology. trackers, but in general a dream with buns. Shuddering. Bed. The rain is impudent. Coolness on the body with goosebumps. Spring. Special. It is impossible without the feeling of being in love. Pink petals wither inside.

Rain. Spoiler. He is amused. Bam. Bam. Bam. It thunders, waking up, playing its own. Sometimes one touch is enough to reach the first letters, carried away by the lips from the breath of thoughts inside, and there is a gray abyss. On the screen there are a ton of unanswered, similar, lonely, condemned to loneliness. There is mortal boredom. It’s burned there. Without attractions, languid gray. It spins a whirlpool of similar strategies, twenty-four, no more. Aroma of coffee. In an immense bed with a star. Forgive? What do you mean? Not negotiable. Tougher. Slightly arching the back for the pleasures of oncoming people. Massage with obedient tips. Softness. Woolen. Stupid. Empty cries of devotion.

And the rain. He plays hard. He indulges. Over there. Over there. Over there. There is a knock on the tin of the windowsills. Collected things, instantly resetting connections, a new offer without guarantees, but with sweet texts. Risk. It’s possible. But the potential is exciting smells. Budgets. Unlimited cards. A little warmth. The heart is sizzling in the frying pan, uncomfortable on the flame. There are those who are used to being dissatisfied with attempts, especially when they are unsuccessful, trampling to shreds, mixing the best with dirt, spilling aggression, losing word combinations, and then swallowing the prescribed ones. Funny, spoiled. Filters mask the tin of reality, the sand pours down, counting its own. The effect of a puddle, it is known that you will be all splashed with someone else’s depression, failures, jumps in aggression, but you forget and warm in the spring you lead to the rooms, burning yourself in the silence of the wild jungle, and it is in this one that the archived is launched, and there is a darkness of mold, you smile silently with gratitude to the reciprocal silence. Archiving the funny former. And the rain does not allow you to sleep, rambles, disturbs, calls to breathe fresh.

Slammed. “Difficult, difficult, divide the sentences. Tell a smooth, accessible story. Let them spy on other people’s actions, luxury, entertain wandering readers with sweet content. But it’s up to you. How are you doing? Are you cold? Sun? Wind? Rain by the scruff of the neck? Are you messing around? And I have a vacuum. I catch temporary comfort from loneliness. Holding licks at a distance. Swallow. Until the shift. And you? The dog has been visiting for a long time, the one she wanted. No aggression. Apparently, those who will not survive without warmth are drawn to me. Purposeful, with a blond smell. He meets me wagging. He sees him off sleepily. He pokes his nose into the bag. He smells food. The chomping woman rejoices. He wags, feeling like a master in nature. Missing you. Really. Stupid. I have prepared tons of warmth for you. I want warmth, with my lips in the palm of my hand. Emptiness without you, despite the movement outside. Fly in. Hear? I’ll kiss you. I’ll spoil you. I missed you.”

Pros

Now. Want to. Now. Now she was whispering, shackling, terrible, very scary, as if magnetism was forcing her to move closer along her vectors, dissolving herself into a stupid fog inside. Let’s ride. Let’s ride. Let’s ride. The view of the mountains from the porthole resembles rugged life paths, scorched yellow deserts, black mountains with shaggy caps of snow, kingdoms of snow and ice. Walks in the spring rain. Exhaustion without fresh. Merci, enough. Climbing into the catacombs, and then down the bomb shelters of the inner closets. Buying in bulk, writing checks for tons of the white world in armfuls, hastily laying out from the basket black, mixed with gray thoughts, sticky dirt, contagious. On… and vulgar thoughts. The inner dragon of veins forges thousands of aggressions, eats them from the inside. Without energy, the earth is shaky, there is no energy, they cannot blossom and develop, they only suck up, scoop up and climb the steps with their palms torn in blood, a soul saturated with sarcasm.

Easier from afar. It’s easier not to touch with expectations, hopes from the words spoken. When they see each other, the magic of the warmth preserved in the memory of a person will disappear, because there is always warmth about the past.

Bell. Nocturnal. It is possible that on the last exhalation. Even if it crawls dripping, they will not open, drowning in amusing pride. Millions are sent into darkness in the hope of falling into a similar state. Deja vu. At the fence there will be no one who trusts, the same foolishly proud. Some, all my life I have been looking for a father. Not in the sense of snuggling up and whining to him about problems, but in the sense of being an example, advice. You will smile, but there were several of them. After outgrowing them in his development, it does not mean at all that he achieved more. Observing, repeating movements, words with emotions, understanding over time what their gold was worth, that the human was given as a tribute to luxury, comparing the paths comfortable to my heart and comparing them with theirs.

They were found, they gave them the opportunity to earn and grow for them, certainly not for money, but to be praised, even just with an approving nod. Not being a freeloader, bringing prey from the forest to the throne, satisfying his pride in his luck in hunting. Hone his hunting skills, choosing a larger predator. The interest is only if there is a benefit to multiply candy wrappers. Human interest has been nullified. Hunting goes on according to all the rules: bait, traps, bored steel shot waiting for a shot, the silence of the birds hiding. And then silence, the exceptional indifference of the vacuum. Over time, it does not touch at all, understanding the threads that bind, forcing smiles to pull for profit.

Slammed. “It’s difficult. How are you? Play? Are you messing around? Aren’t you tired? Will you come? Miss. Other cons? And after? Will you finish?”

Jigsaw

Friday. Homeless rain is trampling. Muted tones. Flickering candles, thin threads of silence and romance. Packs of invitations in messengers vibrate, similar ones advertise entertainment. Voice with strained delights. Getting ready. Lace. A little platinum. Sapphire will add sophistication. Strict. Heels are unattainable. It’s time. Bits were cooked to the stop, whipping fatigue. Bar. Glasses first, getting used to it. Flirting is light. Non-committal. Exchange of sarcasm notes. Attracts elastic, reciprocal. Boredom. Evening. own entertainment. Ocean. Mountains. Stars, with black hollows. Drops of degrees make it clear that, in fact, by applying the theory of probability, there is no chance of changing the essence of what is happening from one’s own lever, which affects the speed and quality of the ball. I drown, laugh, create patterns in a mixed dance. Fears are diverse, they stick to the ugliness when moving a little away from the verified, predetermined. Drink? Grape-burgundy flow down the larynx, lingering on the villi, exciting the receptors. I drink with pleasure. Following trends with the tips. Bursts of exciting general news. Discussing, dissolving in other people’s stories, saturated with crooked hyperboles to give the sophistication of tears and suffering. Drip irrigation is required for the best. Nods smell of compliments. Random are not accidental. Words are automatic, in response to counter. We know about mutual predatory loneliness. Everyone present has the final disappointing diagnosis of brainwashers in their pockets or purse. demands to break free, to tear the veil thrown over. Without unnecessary words, it is chartered to him. A little more pasture, exchange of words, observations of the connection of cobwebs for the future. The Road to Physics. The night is full of neons. The acoustics from “Bose” with bass do not allow the arteries to sleep. A little tiredness. We change the route, turning the Meshlinov ones towards us. It’s easier this way. Sketching out forecasts for waking up in the morning. It is easier to see him off, after the middle of the week to cross paths for the return of a necessarily forgotten trifle. Remaining in the comfort of her own, than, like crumpled with… Dragging through the entire tired metropolis sleepy. Kisses, biting into the blood with corals. Sheets chaotically scattered. Hills went crazy. Filling the naked bricks of the walls with animal moans. Biting into the saturated with manicure. Lips on cubes. The remnants of lace in passion in shreds. The light of the pupils, shuddering, froze, in fractions of seconds soaking up the picture of the completion of pleasure. The next drops of predatory energy were selected. Subtleties. Crumpled. Wrunken. Exhausted. Exhausted. Stomach demands to be filled with new proteins, carbohydrates. And silence is also required. Five in the morning. Sleep. Things with foreign smells for armored, neighbors are no strangers to spectacles. Roars or sobs in useless attempts to explain themselves. Meaning? Take a shower and sleep. Burned.

Slammed. “Buddy, bring the bill. A bottle of champagne is mine, count, count, strain the buns, a little faster… How are you doing? Miss. I noticed it. I cling. Like warm sand seeping through. Tenderness is gradually washed away. A little earlier, I received with delight new smiling ones. Now it’s easier, I don’t fall in love with colorful covers, on pause, waiting for a catch, more often justifies. I create conditions that appear with a fixator. Not rushing into the dive. With wide swings, I give myself to the boundless, and then for hours in the grains of sand with a star. And how are you? Not so loud? Not so enthusiastic? Something similar? But it’s calmer this way, it’s calmer this way. Disappointment in oncoming people gets boring. I’m bored. If you want to, fly in. I want silence in warm native embraces.”

Seven

Early. The metropolis is sleepily tossing and turning. The sun is yawning. Rays are seeping through the armored curtains. Memory is watching the tenth dreams. How about yesterday? Why? But this is not typical. Consistently, bit by bit. Gluing together. Friday evening. The bells are restless. The clock is adjusting, there are still a few hands left, there is still time to bring yourself from home, and to plan where! Well, for now, let’s not get distracted. Immersed in the glitter of feathers, alternating, disassembling the constructor of images, assembled from something magical, vicious. The game is its own started for the late evening, the third-party authorities offer their games. On the run, in an attempt to take notes of observations of the flow of those who change, remembering the vital need to walk from the inner closet of the character of each person. Occasionally they break off, breaking, tearing, smashing restrictions to pieces. Who releases them all at once? In general, if you take your time and do not forget about their hunger, controlling the turn, in secluded places or trusting, but hiding them from the eyes of the uninvited, it turns out that it spills out. Filtering in the stream of endless thoughts about the sources of actions, digging into the root causes, what to say, what she achieved, how she melted the right emotions, how she almost broke down, and then again behind her own and climbing. The scars inside remind you of the consequences. Sometimes it is squeezed like a lemon, wrinkled inside, shrunken, but definitely not on a dark Friday. All the usefulness is spilled out, step by step, night by night, putting everything on black. But this is yesterday, and what about the morning realities? A shrouded body with someone else’s smells, as if nauseous from the desire to get rid of it instantly, pops up in the memory in segments, then night predatory entertainment, with actually from the animal jungle lassoed. They converged in unison of movements to the bursts of beats, a couple of phrases to check the similarity of the primitive mood. Away with the superfluous, yesterday’s things… Pushing with his legs, tearing, pushing out, discouraged on one leg by jumping, he snaps, called a taxi, throwing the remains of the upper one out the door, leaving no chance for a possible morning. Wash up. Wash it out of memory. Clean. Throwing into the drum at maximum bed temperatures. Deleting vulgar messengers, sending numbers to the trash can of your own dirt. Under a scorching shower – burn out memories. The inner whore needed gray emotions so much. Tired. Sleeping. Chained. Like a hackneyed motif with verses on repeat – for deeper penetration. Only after watching more than a dozen on the conveyor belt, you begin to notice similarities in actions, analogies of generosity, repetitions in attention, partly from upbringing, but not a fact. Bar. Wound up. They click the buttons of the remote control, more or less suitable, without thinking, as soon as the puzzles do not match, they ruthlessly switch their attention to the next one. Forgetting completely about what was carried out, gifted, reset and crossed out. The presence of an internal zoo, characters living in internal closets, cannot stand it. Realizing this, carefully walking in the dark. Fears of becoming a white crow. They are branded with templates, proclaiming convenient theses about the integrity of perception, moods, the sequence of desires, and goals. Shameless books allow you to turn on your head. Plunging a little deeper into Swiss studies, consistently discarding the stupid tinsel of public judgments, gluing fragments together, revealing abandoned, trampled works of manyyears of research. Wonderful, without condemnation. With confirmation of the presence in each of them of at least seven internal, diverse characters, and even more so with different views, monologues, actions. Surfing the waves of universal values in this segment, not shining on the territory legitimized by the content of society. Secretly walking the hungry, in inner closets on chains, so as not to fly off gears completely. Millions let out the dust of politeness, care, caresses and other tenderness… Undeniable, and it is present inside, but not 24/7. In moments they get used to it, feed on, are selfish in scooping it out, leaving the breathless from the latter to gain psychorights, to swallow. Driving themselves into a corner of dullness in an attempt to please, to avoid aggression, quietly howling alone from self-pity, fatigue. Sometimes tearing their hair out in hysterics. Climbing under a biting icy shower out of despair, shuddering. Swallowing tons of ice cream, cold sweet. Sticking in silence into the screen, staring a thousand times earlier than the revision. Throwing sedative capsules into myself, I drink again and forget among the duvets with pampered pillows.

Dawn is always inevitable. Cynic, without politeness. Pore. Suit, heels, bright lipstick, espresso, keys to almost five hundred horses with a bell. Gathered for the next call, a series of meetings, forcing the thousandth mechanism to act, create, implement, sell, master, distribute, report, pamper itself.

Slammed. “And I have different ones inside? But still not for everyone, it is difficult. Or maybe you’re right, one of them is hungry for you, eager to give up everything and take tickets to you herself. The rest restrain, break, slap on the cheeks, shackle. As before, here are among those with whom it is dull and sick from the repetition of days, conveyor nights. Okay. Everything is moving in its own course. How are you? Mood? Do you miss me? True, I missed it. Fly in. I want to hug, kissing the unshaven. I’ll treat you to tuna sashimi. We will read, throwing our legs over each other. Chatting incessantly in the evenings, and at dawn for a run on the gold of the sand spit, barefoot, smiling, flirting with the ocean, urging your four-legged blond. To fall asleep together is happiness, embracing, tired of a sunny day.”

Spring

The screen ripples all over the wall with silver, I’m tired of flipping through it. The book is discarded, the corners of single selected pages are bent, for a possible dubious return. The emptiness of a glass of velvety-burgundy wine to relieve a series of painful pains. The numbers of the present are on pause, not accumulated enough, do not pull into the current one. Going through and dialing the numbers of the past with their fingertips, they give off silence, vacuum, rejecting the cat’s mood of purring. Reading emotions from a distance with your nose. Lack of a degree of boredom or the presence of alternatives, present nearby, at the moment. A ridiculous lack of reciprocal attention, the offer of the game of this evening has been reset, for the next one I am not interested. The wind bursts into the open in search of profit, rages, sniffs, smells of coolness and freshness, quickly gets bored, curls up, slams shut on its own. The body is disobedient. He likes to be capricious, under exorbitant loads he does not always withstand. He complains, whines at first, and then falls off piece by piece. The injections are burning. The doctors in white are filled with fears. Complete indifference to oaths of help is washed away by the routine of a series of crumbling ones, the worries of everyday life are clogged, and energy is not replenished, as before. Not everyone, there are white ones… In his arms from the bed, creaking his roots. So it has already been, and the current patience will pass. Having spoiled it in this way, the shell gets used to tenderness. Taking liberties, he can talk about fatigue. Swallowing white pills with squeezes, we get rid of external pain, leaving the remnants of the internal pain. Hush, quieter, the echoes of excessive loads give harsh consequences. Everything will pass. A deep sleep. Breaks in awakening are painful, any movement reeks of moans. The environment is often short, demanding an immediate reward for service. Orders and demand for moments, and then fall into depression without constancy and certainty. Without exception, cynically and without modesty, independently praising their own missing qualities, hoping for a check accidentally dropped for them. Self-pity – don’t make me laugh. The cry is silent, gnashing from its own pain, drowned out by the parallel of sounds with pleasures. Feeling the unhurried steps of the keykeeper, the servant of the order, the closet, with various characters. Amazing intolerance, breaking the shackles of chains, tearing the bolts of the doors from their hinges with roots, released. In such holes, we walk exclusively predatory, digging in with our lips and teeth. He will send it. He is mad. Requirements of food, speed. Subordination. Brushing aside curtseys, pounce to satisfy hunger. Having had his fill. Switches are triggered, releasing a balanced calm. There are no quick prizes from the plan, there is not enough breath for a long one. The night is mocking, endless, piercing the physical with sharp pain. Terribly long, dark. The outer shell is merciless, constantly throwing introductions. The wall clock strikes, giving off a sledgehammer inside. Deep midnight, not enough liquid, pink villi contribute to transparently tasteless swallowing with greed. Pass. Spring flirts, indulges. Patience.