When the space inside you gets empty, you know it…
There’s this great absence in this world that tells us to stop and experience the polygamy.
We know it…we know it with every crowded crossing, every supermarket, every confined lovers, every sunset…every failures.
You can’t kill a spirit unless freedom becomes depression,
you can’t impregnate a woman without realizing the core of your orgasms,
you can’t stand on a neck and tell all about religion and civilization…
Every fucking hoax, every filthy corner, every defeated poets… every poisoned child…every art plucked from the living megalomania…
I am telling about it…I am splitting all out in a chiffon pipe.
If the silence wants to kill me…so be it,
if I am going to be a poet then I have to know what it means to stand in front of the cannons and say how easy it was to come so far…

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Photograph: Den Lozinin.