Author of quotes: Vladimir Penniless

And poetic butterflies heart
Born of abominable worms...

Where were we all these bad years?
We were here and hid in the words.

The summer is ended, and the point.
There is no escape, but hold on to the thread
That will come somewhere
Somehow, probably, maybe.

Don't let people in my
I don't want anyone to feel sorry for.

Morning and rain. It's now September.
A nasty shiver. Time colds.
Back up nothing though.
A glimmer of light, but almost extinguished.

That, my friend, has already reached the bottom of life?
Not young, no money, not famous,
No one comes or calls.