She miss you. Lerysol

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