Either they betray you, so it follows you, or the world is arranged in such a way that you do not fit into it.  How is it really?  - No one knows.  Only he knows. Hey, you!  Haughty. What about our old friendship? You are so beautiful, smart, attractive. And I'm lonely, unhappy. Your faithful servant. Once, leaning with your head to the wall, you quietly and sadly said, as if to yourself: "The lizard will never become a dragon."  I was sorry to hear that. You broke my heart while I was on the subway. I was poisoned by you. Your voice haunts me when I'm in gray walls. What you're talking about doesn't exist. Not now, not before. It's a lie. This is fiction. Your empty talk. And this is profanity. I have what I need. I walk in the footsteps of God, and you follow in the footsteps of his enemy. I'm red and you're blue. If I do something in your direction, then only for the benefit of myself. I hate you. You are empty space for me. You want to steal from me my precious - my soul. I don't need you. I don't have time for you. It takes away my wings. I'll need ones. I have only a quiet ringing in my ears, and you have gloomy voices. It will better if you will wash your wet eyes with clean water. You have a dirty mind. You are an intriguer. Inside mine, everything is on the shelves. My heart is pure. And you are one of them. You are a conspirator. Your red lips and shamelessly lowered eyes told me about it. I'm leaving. Forever. Goodbye. 

I am in Moscow. I'm on a wide street. There's a church ahead of me. Jehovah's Witnesses occupied the neighbored building. Entering the room, the first thing I see is kitchen knives scattered carelessly on the tables. This building would be more suitable for a warehouse than for a meeting room. For good reason I went here. Once I found trouble by believing in your bewitching eyes. It's exactly the same feeling. Now I will be careful when I meet you. Go away, leave me forever. It might be dangerous here. Somewhere, a terrorist from ISIS who joined a sect to hide in a crowd of fanatics. He was assisted by al-Qaeda. These are network marketing, leasing, trade, credit services and a training base.  Mafia – these petty geys, and the military are big faggots. In case of failure, they promise to destroy everyone.  And if they win, they rape women and children, and they kill you. They don't have their own identity. They are pathetic copies of the people I once met.  People, who were killed by your burning jealous eyes. I need to get rid of you all. We have to set you up. All the same, your prodigal path will lead you nowhere. It will the second or third circle of hell. If you rely on the immortal creation of Dante. 

This is not an Empire Strikes Back movie, and it doesn't feel like The Third Reich at all.  It's more like the movie "Highlander", where at the end there will be only one.  Or a story where a student kills a teacher.  This is the story of a white man, about whom it is impossible to say in the affirmative who he is and what he did yesterday and today, and tomorrow.  Having passed this gloomy building, I go out into the backyard. Daylight hits  my eyes. Long stories of a white man, will be remembered only at night, alone, when I imagine your eyes hot from the heat.  Further along the street only fooling around, muddy children. And there is a black man. I raise my eyes to the yellow sun to forget about the carelessly scattered kitchen knives. What the hell?! And walk past them. Forget about them. I was accidentally brought to this building.  It's better to go nowhere. 

I start laughing hysterically, remembering your eyes again.  They are terribly dark. There were the FBI? Perverts? Is it the ultras and the mafia?  The smell of money, women's perfume, and fear. Gateway. Fear seized me. Pungent odor of urine. It turns me inside out from you.  My muscles are tight. Adrenaline and endorphins in my blood. I'm hallucinating and my knees are shaking. Oh God!  Here terrorist number 2 is. He's Putin. The yellow walls of his palaces, its brown bars. I remembered prison. It looks like the windows of a madhouse. This is the labyrinth of the minotaur or the dwelling of the monster. And this is my fear. He runs along the walls of this building, falling on wet and dirty asphalt. My shadow is dropping. It looks like a heart attack or brain stroke in the same time. I'll have to run. Plus this mixture of hormones and pheromones in my blood. This is much worse - this is to insomnia. I need to leave you to forget you. Drop everything to hide. Either I part with unnecessary people, or I continue to play the sociopath.  The choice is only one of these two.  Unfortunately you, my god, I still refer to you sometimes. You play this game better than me. That's why I can't forget your lonely and haughty eyes. 

Then I'll fly on the first flight to you from Thailand to catch your hand. I like the smell of fresh bread more than the smell of urine in a dark alley where I wandered by chance.  It's too late to feel unwanted in the soul. It's dark ahead, but there's no time to turn back.  And what about the night, I like the fire. I tried to get rid of it once to change it to the love of the cold wind and the smell of the sea. I am not a hedonist.  After all, for some reason they put me in dungeons. Where blue walls and bars lit with yellow light crushed me. This is clearly not done by accident.  It's like the blood and sand I've seen before. It's all done to light up my eyes to make them meaner.  To make me meaner. I am terrified. I forgot your gaze.  This is similar to the feeling that I was going to feel, but for some reason I hesitated on purpose. I'm afraid of the cops and not in vain. To my fear, they all got me. They seem to have the same gazes. Now, going out into the street, into the white light, seeing luminous tabloids and passing cars... From all this to purple, yellow, gray colors, I become phsyco.  My tongue is tangled up on these pills. Although, until recently, I condemned you for exactly the same thing. 

I'm outside the synagogue in Ankara, where something is clearly happening. I came here.  Raging crowd ahead. This is a clear choice. Politics again. It is endless - never ends and starts nowhere. It stirs up hatred.  Again, no choice. A stubborn popular homosexual and his arrogant rich lesbian. Or a populist and a victim of violence. Need to go back. I turn the ignition key from VAZ2107. Next to me sits a harassment and recidivist, a victim of violence or harassment. There are an AK-47, a few lemons and a fly grenade launcher in the trunk.  Arrow ahead. After all, only the grave will fix the hunchback.  We are together. We are anarchists and right wing. It seems that next to me are some sociopaths. If you miss, then the faithful cop of the Soviet Union will ask you, if you answer him incorrectly, then you did it. You will convicted. 

I seem to be in a spiritual twilight. I approach the glass in my room, thinking that everything is gone. In the morning the light hits my tired eyes. Again, I realize that nothing has even started yet.  Darkness enveloped the room and pulled me in. I smell your fear, although you are far from me. It's disgusting. This is not the hotel where I slept. Not room six hundred and sixty-six, where it was warm and pleasant.  his is number eight hundred and eighty-eight, where everything, absolutely everything, is gone. Gone. If this is a score, then I'm up there, under the dome, near the big clock. I'm looking for you from the shadows to find you. What will I do with you?  Love or kill? I don't need proof for this. The look on your face is my excuse when you meet my gaze. But you're not here.  Emptiness outside and dirt inside. We don't recognize people like you. So let's keep hunting. No king but God's anointed. No to a fat, lazy butt of the priest. He is too arrogant and tired of not watching anyone. 

There is an idea, albeit an arrogant one, I will take them all for bait. Adrenaline returns to my blood. Let's take them on treason, to put it simply. They saw nothing but chickens. I attach cartridges to the grenade and throw them into the darkness. This is the shooting of wild animals.  Cannibal hunting. And the more dangerous the animal, the more interesting the hunt. I go out into the gusty wind, I understand that it's too late to change. Some metal objects in the night, on the wind, sing almost the same way as small birds sing during the day. My brothers and I and the dog will figure you out. Let's set up a hunt. She is cold and calculating, but she serves me faithfully. All this happens because when you came to my restaurant and ordered chicken, you hoped that I would bring you a fattened calf. You are crazy! You are a terrorist. Although, it is not the place and time to explain everything. Times change and people change too, but feelings and sensations remain the same. Everything I need I already have. In drops of fine rain, I hear her wondrous voice whispering to me: "The lizard will never become a dragon."  It hurts to hear from you. This is a feeling of excitement. I see fear and first, I'll bet on red.  But it's like euphoria, remembering her words when the crowd bets on black. It looks like a cry: "Crucify him!".  But no... It's completely no... it's different.

by Artem Miachin

27 May 2023