sounds

usually sound

is the first one

to come back

(only after a few

breaths)

hum of the

car engines

noise of the

birds

your

heart-beat

I let fingers

of my

right hand

move

to that melody

the left one

forms a fist

I try to place it

somewhere

between

us

if neither

of us

will speak

for long

enough

we might

fall asleep

equation of the straight line

.

everyone knows

that through

any given
two points

you can draw

a straight line

that connects

both of them

that's why I try
to make a point

though - admittedly

it might be

not an obvious

one

or maybe

it's just us

hidden behind

a lot of words

and even more

kilometres

it snows
with fuzzy logic
changing
the landscape
into something
white
soft
and undetermined

.

gimmegrants

I have an accent

and not a very British

attitude

if you ask me

to show number

3

on my fingers

- I will definitely

use my thumb

I drink

dairy-free

T

and I don't like

curry

I am popular
among the sons
of the
white
upper
middle
class
(their parents
hate me)

my origin
branded me
with blue and white
and you are
always surprised
how good
my English
is
...
kurwa

may day

we interrupt

quiet hours

of the night

with messages

full of

unfinished

sentences

that may

or may not

mean

something/

/nothing

later on

with the first

sunlight

comes

sleep

that neither you nor I

can describe

we don't need

alarm clocks

I have

ambulances

on the streets

you live

around the corner

from the

fire station

with the noise

of the day

and the illumination

of the sky

everything can only

be

what it exactly

is

it may

or may not
be

why we

stay

so

silent

four three

on the roof

just before

the dawn

air smells

like ice

it's so easy

to imagine

you are just

a fly

caught in

the white foggy

amber

two

I watch

birds

come

and

go

and do

a countdown

with every finger

I lose

feeling to

one

nothing

winter

I'm starving

in a sleep

when my eyes

are closed

my bones

try to pierce

skin on my:

shoulders

elbows

chin

something moves

within

your face

I think

you are

smiling

I try to mirror

that movement

but it feels

like traversing

through

the arctic cold

without the map

I surrender

I'm starving

and I'm so cold

with eyes

filled with

black water

with hands

hidden in

pockets

you let me

climb on you

and hide

under your

breath

winter.

winter is coming.

birdy

it's late

(with flickering stars

above

and no moral law

below)

I hide behind

the cigarette smoke

and some vagueness

our eyes

don't meet

because

I am starring

at the pavement

I know though

that your lips

are like a wave

drawn by children

when they draw

a bird

there are

dark shadows

under my eyes

and my fingers

move constantly

you think I look

like a wounded

rook

...

you give me

a glass of water

and draw the curtains

so the daylight

won't

scare

me