She miss you

Lung

Early morning. Loads with your own weight. Cool shower. A day off, given to lace. Sleepy. The ability to allow yourself not to… consonant with everything, but with its own waywardness, but similar in puzzles. There is one who is disheveled after sleep, looking out from under it, already smiling. Sings in a whisper, caresses with the tips. A record with French love refrains, penetrates slowly, calms down. A funny ability to laugh inappropriately. With jokes for a thousand, often unconsciously, just to please you. Colombian drinks are filled, strewn with cakes with hot bitter chocolate. Embraces of meetings, squeezed. Words, words in streams. Soulful, penetrating. Eyes insatiable, intertwined with eyelashes. Boring of the fingertips, especially the little fingers are hungry, intertwined with tenderness. Curling in streams, drops on the palms. Today they are stuffy, they require those special ones to satisfy their hunger. Satisfied with what has been said, heard, saturated to the brim. The physics of bodies invigorates, squeezing to the brim, as if from a metal tube, all the energy. Caress, changing masks, sorting out the situation. The glitter fascinates, turning off caution, luring. The waves of the oncoming wind whisper, shake, drive, urge, filling the fabric of the sails, lifting the mud from the bottom. Tearing the blankets of laziness from the anchors. People around are running, snatching the remnants of food at speed. Bending, they squirm, betraying their own oaths for a gnawed bone, hung with tags, exalted by someone in glossy ones. Full of artificial charms, in search of applause from the right one. Many are too strong with the declared price, they run out of steam from the frequency of changing collections. Mystery is cheap. Funny, funny. Put on the first five to seven with friendliness. After that, it’s not the same, it’s not like that, you get bored, you want scarce, rare. Elastic, sharpened in looks. Confidence shines through, he feels so.

Five minutes before… Playful, jokes with kisses, indulging, eccentric, dancing in lace to French melodies, feeding on a smile from the cheeks of my relatives with unshaven hair. Waving, chirping incessantly. Trying on a dress, exchanging energy with the sun. Offended. Upset, did not smoothly switch to the right one.

At the moment… Silently, emerging for a click, to protect the frightened inside. The movements are abrupt. Words woven from coarse letters. The glass is shattered. Crumpled, dissolving the protruding impudence, trampled, mud-spattered from the latest collection of pomposity. Predatory sparks ignite offenders. The roar from within shakes even the stone ones.

Five minutes after… Looking around in fright at what has been created. She was not brought up in this way and not in order to listen to the base. Shaking off what he had heard, denying it, hastily picking up the torn remains. I don’t want to do that. So disgusting. So not me.

And a little later in the evening… Inside, flirting, spilling through the arteries, saturating the blood with warmth, the whisper asks for a little rudeness. Her lips are scarlet, passionate, silently begging for touch.

Slammed. “Count, yes, yes, yes… Hurry, please. Too rude. The dirt is covered with blackness, you need time to wash off. I was exhausted. They took away warm energy. The feathers were torn out. I’m flying to the clouds in another… in search of similarities. Tired. The strokes are uneven. Temporarily I do not allow someone else’s politeness. It hurts with the waves, and then at dawn it is easy again, I laugh, play around. I miss you… Do you plan to? How soon? I’ll drop the coordinates. Ocean. Warmth. Sun. Smile for me. I get nourished, it is required on a regular basis. I remembered – you love me. I want something pleasant and easy. I pledge to wake up with the first chirp, putting on sneakers with you in the morning, and then in an icy shower with hugs. I’ll make you real coffee with breakfast, I’ll joke around while indulging. I want it so carefree, polite. I miss the rare lightness.”

Templates

The first warm degrees. Morning. The murmur of early birds. Movements of arms, legs. Drops of sweat in a measured breath and a few exhalations. A walk inside the alleys, neatly trimmed, enveloped the turquoise fountain with rare crimson leaves. The smell of morning innocence. The velvet of the spring dawn. Freshness from the awakening of greenery. A shower chilling with vigor. The silence of early bakeries, cozy with their silence to madness. Colombian smells, enchanting smells. The crunch of a croissant crust, indulging with the magic of the taste of unmelted butter, adding the taste of parmesan, ham, greens. There are no superfluous ones. No one cares. The old ones are asleep. The roles were played, everything necessary was exchanged in a moment of hunger, mixing emotions. The future ones were not even laid down yet, braiding slender ones around their necks with a degree. Disheveled. They sparkle with delight and casual stupid jokes. They melt the stiffness. Compressed conciseness. Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, sinking into the tenderness of feathers, snoozing comfortably and in moments snoozing. And what about the day? Full of new characters. With rudeness, sarcasm, outbursts, in order to cover the vulnerable inside with your palms. And after? Letting him in. Meeting. A handful of words. Crushing the last tube more often in an attempt to squeeze out a bit of happiness. As if wound up, repeating about peace inside, shuddering at every rustle, screech of the brakes of the past. Afraid to cross paths with the dark side of their own, losing a possible future in the moment. They turn away, paying one-time fees, there is no time for treatment, and doctors no longer give guarantees for a cure. Broken, and the repair is protracted, you get a little tired of constant donation. Let’s leaf through the next lace ones. In fact, they replace the templates of their predecessors, already tired, with birdhouses built in a hurry. Flirting with opposites, discovering the facets of carelessness. Rich. It smells of love. From the screen, on a walk, carbon copy words, actions are licked with similarities. Rarely by honesty, more and more often by seconds of mood. We are confident in slogans that have not been confirmed in practice. Walking the inner characters of different content, masking what was said earlier with unconsciousness. It would be funny to look at the conveyor, template stamping, diversifying only the color of the skin, hair, complicating the language, dots on the ball for placement. Changing in a whisper, fearing, they recognize, walking in the twilight their own inhabitants. The rules of the games are often similar. Falling in love was necessary in the early, without understanding the true rope weaves rotten by cynicism, which set the gears in motion. Outlining goals, creating similar ones in the future, more, but spreading their hands in confusion from their worthlessness. It turned out the way it happened, not being responsible for the quality. Nobody teaches education. Watering, weeding, only when there is free, At the moment, they lost the threads that bind, giving the reins of influence to the outsiders, when they settled their own soft ones. Uttered disappointments: “Excuse me” – are noisy by millions.

Slammed. “Count. Difficult. Did you miss me? Yes, everything here is mine. Announced. Pore. I’m flying to the next one. Do you not judge? It’s funny, your opinion is also important. Lack of necessary attention. Salty remnant of the ocean on the lips, aftertaste. Miss. Unbearable occasionally. More often surround you with the fuss of suitcases, lips, emotions, tickets with passports, in anticipation. Funny. I noticed that the higher the expectations, the deeper. They will be disappointed. After that, they will saturate the window with strained happiness in order to somehow beat it off. Duplicate. Template. The swings of my arms are uneven, I move. Changing pictures. Sleepy clouds, like a pet, faithfully follow me. One. Nothing to anyone. He is not responsible for anyone. It happens. But I want to immerse myself in you, pampering, kissing greedily, stroking, plunging my nostrils into my native smells. Kissing the stubble, whisper. Fly in. True, I missed you.”

Dusty

The violin is pitiful. The silence of the morning café. Colombian grains drive you crazy with their aroma. Porcelain thinnest containers, holding their breath with offerings. The crunch of the top crust of flour delights, and then soak up the receptors. The French notes are mixed. It’s time to be yourself. Early larks. Boredom envelops me. More than a dozen legalized joint thousands of nights. The funny thing is that no one imposed the peaks with goals, on their own. Exclusively spying on the environment with their values, life, cockroaches, to meet the level. Drawing from the lock, they climbed in their own way. Vulgar sighs on a huge walk, I get bored with my hands, lips, stereotyped movements. The boredom of cyclicity. Sometimes it was windy, stormy to the point of madness. Fattening the flesh of the inner characters, nourishing them freshly. Selfish? In any case, the boundaries of permissiveness along the way were subject to constant correction. Changing tactics, collecting cases of friends, with brainwashers. They were shattered, then reassembled and reassembled with the tips, glued. It spilled, seeped out, again silently squeezing the coral, climbing. They talked incessantly – in the hope of working, understanding, realizing, adjusting, pursing their lips into blood, yielding to circumstances. Helped? At the moment, like an ambulance, and then again with his teeth. They burned, stabbed into splinters, kicked, pouring degrees.

Paths of discontent with emotions. Shaking out their furious, predatory things, they lifted up a fluttering white cloth and surrendered to each other again, raking with torn palms. Licking streams of salty tears with the bristles of their tongues. Books are common, pages crease for the possibility of returning after. Funny. The past is in the past, but occasionally whitewashing the cells with past deeds, surfacing to the surface, we forgive the ungrateful. Madness. Gray and hard dirt is difficult to wash off. Pity? A seemingly endless routine of the same words, movements, nods and others in co-authorship. It flew by in an instant. Rules and statuses impose boundaries in words, scandals, opinions. The madness of movement is solely for the amusement of its own, ridiculous significance. Sharika will get bored – and nullify the presumptuous ones, created in moments. Silence. Unspoken misunderstandings are thrown into the inner basements. Difficult, but passed. Upbringing? Nonsense, it is almost impossible to resist the external environment that arouses interest in those who make their way through the asphalt. It attracts you to turn it over, to turn it over, to roll it up, having listened to it. We gathered, stretching out our hands, enough to the oncoming wardrobe, to sort through the colored junk. What for? Neatly arranged, hung by flowers, by the smells of memories. The night is more comfortable in different ways, tactile ones no longer attract. Imperceptibly, the paths were scattered with interests, glances, and various ways of feeding with energy. Joint projects have been completed. Every breath, more often exhalation, is thoroughly studied. Sneaking steps, whispering for other people’s rooms, entertainment, so as not to go off the rails completely. Strangers tend to calm down, they are overwhelmed with recipes, repeating what they have overheard as if they were wound up, not letting them pass through themselves in practice. not letting it deep into itself, it no longer touches you. Those who have to grow up will grow up, no worse and no better, in a similar pursuit of comfort as candy wrappers. It’s funny, the data of dozens in the passport were supposed to provide experience, but in fact they filled me with a penetrating feeling of confusion and fear. Dusty. No one knows at any stage how to do it right.

Slammed. “It’s sad. I didn’t understand everything, but I felt sad. Why? Affected. Violin motifs evoke something special. Vacuum. Apparently, I can’t find a psycho similar to me. She is indifferent to success. Age. Pedigree. The presence of the past. I love it by the ocean, scattered with a star. The surf gently massages. Infinity. Smiling at the scorching one. The dog hides with a cold nose. Be quiet. Light-heartedly. I like to saturate with my own energy. Self-sufficient? I guess. A little more interesting than others, apparently. But your puzzles are not enough. I missed you so much.”

Yellow

The sun denotes its own presence, luring it out, and then gives it to the wild wind to be torn to pieces. The wind governs the city, appointing, lowering, calculating without help. A temporary alien manager, cynically undressing the beauty of deciduous necklaces, exposes the shy. Nakedness is covered by the latter, and he bites in like a blood-stained tiger, consciousness is turned off. With the tip of claws, predatory fangs to the last capillary. And they? they shrink, bend in an attempt to survive, to be liked. The old ones, especially when they are lonely, want to be liked, ask stupid questions about how they look. They scan emotions, show concern, duplicating mirror gestures. At the same time, there is probably someone who is waiting for her, an alternate airfield in full, chartered for the endless. Pause. Interests are developed – the desire to get out. To change the swamp of routine. Of course, it is potentially necessary and there are plans for the future. A short leopard, excessive laughter at banal jokes. Maintaining a conversation, trying to be interesting, supporting, throwing, splashing out like a waterfall what you have previously heard, of course, without delving into the essence, from similar weighed, demonstrating versatility. Cute runs out of steam, it is enough for 5, 7, 10, then she brings herself closer with a luxurious mane, coquettishly approaching, moving away like a pendulum, surfing her pupils according to his interest, amusingly balancing, good. She admires his forms, letting go of kind, quiet, but affectionate ones. And he? A fan. The peacock, stuffed with compliments, fluffing out its tail, giving out its first guttural faces, flowed into its frustrations with worries, emotional sobs.

I got ready. Glancing at the clock, reporting his incredible punctuality. Thanks to the wonderful table, strewn with viands, drinks with Colombian flavors, throwing notes of politeness just in case, releasing bulldozers backstage to level the next airfield for critical landings.

Slammed. “How are you? You have autumn in gold, all-consuming geysers with depression. Wave after wave with trains? And the ocean spoils me, with a crimson dawn on a run, like a naughty puppy, playing, teasing. Time jumps chaotically, slowing down, then again rapidly, changing the greeting of oncoming people, new, forgotten past, I pay off with politeness. Viscous occasionally. Protractedly. Exciting. By the beginning of twilight, she is often completely morally squeezed out. I alternate physics, giving preference to youth, discarding stupid attempts to find a similar person on the head. Setting boundaries for sleeping alone. Obsessive. The ocean, you know? Only it calms you down. Allows you to relax, massaging your fingertips gently. A little less? Waves. Sometimes nightmarish tsunamis do not allow you to sleep. The clang of greedy cynicism cannot be overcome. Or maybe you will get out? Come, do you hear? Miss. Lips on the cheek, hair on the palms of the hands missed to tears. I want tenderness.”

Funny

In search of an explanation for the stupidity of the meaning of uniting into cells, more often emotional support, but this is more often replaced by sympathetic girlfriends with feather pillows, cut boyfriends. A joint project of creating heirs follows step by step, amusing oneself in dreams about raising the best of quality – and of course, this is the most recognized long-term project, which often does not allow you to abandon what has been created at any time. Sufficiency on electronic candy wrappers is for freedom in buns, and this is selfishly solvable in loneliness that is understandable and predictable by emotions. Having mastered the basic profession, without waves, storms, having honed the QA, design lines to a shine, not realizing that tomorrow this will also be artificial. At the moment in the house, without thinking a couple ahead, thoughts on the barns in gray closets, today extolling the ideas of hedonism in the absolute. It drips stably, smells of stability from even a small flow of checks. Alone, with the support of the codes of the region’s rules not voiced at the early stages of the merger, appropriating the joint project for themselves, as if the acquired household was their own, they pick up the leftovers of help from the parents, here and there, the opposite biological parent, intercepting short-term handouts from the candy-bouquet that meets for a while. By making exclusively material interests a priority, providing oneself with a minimum subsistence income. Cross it out. They immerse themselves in the project – the child, recklessly assuming the creation and cultivation of a fully developed independent monoman. Forgetting the basics of the need for male influence, providing a successful practical example of the existence and mutual understanding of parents. Without the absence of such an example, observations of how conflicts are overcome internally, about the important irreplaceable role of the second parent in life. New ones grow without details, and other internal mechanisms cannot withstand the load of the external, breaking what has been created, hidden irreparable breakdowns of the personality. The first inclined to disguised polite future sociopaths, hooked on pharma from the conveyor belt industry of psychorights. After? Do not forget about the functionality of the defender. Conditional need for protection? The rules of the ball have changed a long time ago, there are no generally accepted predators, alien hungry tribes that carry a mortal final danger. There are still those who cannot stand the rules and the attitude of society towards each other, trying to hide in penthouses, palaces, others in villages, forests, farms, families from their own kind, away from the harsh and predatory. Nature is merciless, such is its charm that even there, without a dome, sinewy hands, palms are caught unexpectedly. Predators always take the unrestrained by surprise, testing for strength, breaking down the door, and sneaking up with politeness. Sometimes under the icy shower of the reality of the jungle, with questionnaires skipped in a series on the conveyor, with stupid unceremoniously protruding demands. Must: travel at least a couple of times a year, gifts in bunches on designated dates, height from one hundred and eighty. The hostess is in the garbage: cleaning – cleaning, cooking – ordered fast food with restaurants. Wall of cold. Care, what is it? Without much ceremony, let the green character off the chains with the reciprocal ones. Without foreplay, with aggression, height from one hundred and seventy-five, constant – cooking and cleaning with care, is not discussed. Proven expertise to choose in the profession. Sports with a layout, a marathon from five. Not a log, under twenty-five. An offer for three years of operation, wrinkles, bedsores are banned, categorically. I have been well-read since childhood, I have an inner world with care. And in response? Always, snots, wet eyelashes, a hail of words about cynicism. Vacuum. There is no time at all for another education. Of course, this is only their perception of the world and it can be stated that they are simply unlucky enough to touch the reverse lower primitive side of others, overflowing the vessels of patience, coordinate changes in their usual life take place. Circumstances. Cross it out.

“I slammed it shut. Is it easier? Better one. What do you want from me? Threw. That’s all. It hurts. Yes, I want to cry so much from my strength. Doubt? Laughing? I don’t understand when you don’t want to offend me. I want peace and understanding. Do you remember when you said that I was a child for you who settled inside you? So where are you? One. Yes, stupid. I’m good, right? Like the ocean I can embrace tenderly to the point of silence, to trembling in the knees, but inevitably comes a period of storms, dagger showers, with a hurricane wind, and it is better to hide from my rigidity. Yes, fool. I still fight with mills, I know that this is a dead end. I howl quietly at the moon, drowning in the wet wipes of my own grievances. Night. I will go swimming under the races, flirting with the power of the endless pampered. The ocean loves me. Warm pillows to you. Don’t listen to me strange, I just missed your unshaven cheek so unbearably. Come, do you hear?”

Soothes?

Hush, hush, snuggle up. Soothes? Billions of immersions into your own fictional reality, often accepting other people’s rules and immersing yourself. Swiss scientists publish funny short essays about the myth of the intelligence of the individual as he grows up. Actions, decisions, thoughts, the imaginary necessity of needs set the speed of the environment, the selected projects with immersion in the creation of a cell, their own kind, a tree, buildings. The methods of a series of accelerations are different only at a glance, slowly, bit by bit, systematizing the ongoing actions, content, for analysis, peeling off the features of regions, costs, customs and a couple of other factors, in the remainder – the frightening monotony of human roads. Similar blows against a light bulb in the dark, billions of scorching actions, but not changing the essence globally. Most of them are tormented by a strange run of survival with turns that last from 6 to 7 decades. Managing to dissolve into each other to madness, tirelessly imposing their own invented pictures of the perception of the ball, offering to participate in long-term collaborations. Counting down hundreds of hours, growing up, stupidity sprouts, stuffed with fears, lagging behind from the rapid change of rules on the ball, with worn-out internal batteries, no longer hold more than eight, with the continuation in the night mad. Demonstration of a showcase with internal mannequins, squeezed in poses of feigned seriousness, puts some people around them into a trance of respect, admiration for the often naked. Only after 70, exhaling, looking behind the curtain of the meaning of stay, they put a vague reputation on a hanger. With the relief of filling with happiness, they plunge back into childhood, gathering in an armful grandchildren who are similar in perception, throwing off the feigned, realizing the short remainder, scooping up the lost joy of sparks, in fact, losing in past actions, in saturation with knowledge.

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