Alexander Naitow. untitled (№ 238934)

You look up at the sky. You already feel skull bird. She's aching bones, her feathers burning in the acid of the soul, raucous muddy out vapor breathing. You also want to fly. You wanted to fly yesterday, I want today and will want tomorrow. Day after day, day after day, until a little fluffy bunnies-days are not gnawing black hole in your anemic chest. Until they dragged them in their sweet some carrots fierce ruthlessness of life. You look at the sky, stroking their leverets and modificeres alive. Only the sky remains with you, in you, around you, only sky, only sky... But the sky is perhaps the most elegant poison.