В водовороте безудержных дней, В дремучей чаще безудержной...

In the maelstrom of rampant days
In the dense thicket of rampant life
I became absolutely brazen
Pretending reality of thought.

I started getting what
What I only dreamed about hitherto
But there is no joy here and that’s it
Neither in life, nor in bed.

I tried many:
A few hundred and on top,
They only showed miserable
And emotions only faded faster.

I grew and changed over the years.
Much has become different.
Simple sex no longer dope
But I became much richer:

And there’s a shop on your pocket,
And thoughts have become different now,
And the soul is now suffering more
And everyone seems wildly empty.

I’m not on the air at all,
And the suffering has grown older.
The muse does not play the lyre,
But I became much wiser.

The price of wisdom is eternal wildness.
Even a predator does not know this:
My freakiness and intimacy -
Your proof of the word.

I have become so wild
That and “thank you” I do not believe.
Silent, unsociable and like a drama
Sentimental without measure.

I gave so much for the looks!
I worked while the others were sleeping.
Got even more than necessary
But from the mind - only grief, suffering.

I don’t know what the fuck I am crucifying ?!
Before whom ?! And understand at least a word ?!
Am I pouring out il ?!
But life without emotions is all new ...

05/02/2017, 19:49
Yura Demon