1. VESPERTINE BACKALLEY

Tiredness of ages
Segregation makes no sense
I escape the faces
But I can't escape myself

As the lights go out
And streets plunge into the dark
Hegemony of lunacy
Steps out to give a spark

Streets beholding the forgery
Chilling air around
Streets concealing the sorcery
No time to doubt

Illuminated in amber
The backalley arise
Lonesome pedestrian
Looking in your eyes

Between the lampposts
The trail goes in cycles
When dreams
Become the nightmare

The marble chambers
I timidly step into the vastness
Of these last days
When wind is irreconcilable

Mixture of feelings
What's lost is not subject to finding
Animal's dreary eyes
In the dusty jamb

Acknowledge the path of nothingness
Hear the screams of the old realms
What's left of me beside this armour?
No one’s here... No one’s left

Final step
Into the void
Stuffy air
Intoxicates me


2. DISCONNECT ME

As the horizon
Falls into your window
Snacks and liquor
Reflected in a table

Your records
Washed out by rain
Your syllables
Of lost ways

Crowd of ties and bones
From the bird view
Freezes suddenly
As the Arbat performance

Realizing
You are one of them
How you got here?
Regular deja-vu

And these days
Collide in a row
I can't recall
What happened yesterday

The logic exists
Afar from reality
In the context
Of surreal conformism

Climbing the ladder
From the horror
And to the tragedy
All your life

And when you look around
You see your friends
In hurry
To bypass you

Disconnect what it takes
To stop my coma
To conserve the labour days
Of your god

Dead as yesterday as tonight
No one hears you
Go ahead into the night
And ease your thoughts

Tonight
As the infinity dwells
On your porch
See yourself moving along
The interstate road


3. BEYOND

In the middle of nowhere
Year by year
I wake up in the dead of night
I behold this peon lying

In his bed alone
In the heat of a dying hearth
Awaiting for no one
Looking in my eyes

Whatever passes by
In his dreams, in the air
Reappearing in my head
Leaving only at the dawn

What I do is what I hate
And what I love is kept only
In the dreams of a man
Who dares to step beyond me

When they laugh he don't care
When they cry he don't feel sorry
He is me beyond myself
This is me in Siberian story

Run to where is no return
Where we lost and don't recover
Where we were proclaimed the evil
Of the battles lost

Say in your enemy tongue
What you can barely endure
What's lost can't be regained
But at least can be rescheduled

I don't seek idle celebrations
But cognition, not yielding pleasure
This is my doom
And my doom is my measure

Which is seeking celebrations
And condition to yield my demise


4. CANVAS

Post-modern days
Awaiting me
The domes of castles lost
Condescend to me

Paintings bright as eyes
Beyond the fence
As I stray in a gloomy dusk
On a square of decadence

Post-war days
Uncertain smile
On a photo black and white
Erstwhile

Your lips dark as night
Gaze straight through me
The books of men
Of own fantasy

Feel the sign
In the dead of the night
As the strangers
Perform their rites

In the throes
Of what to come
And what is
Still remained

With my verve as a beacon
I take the hand
Of the everlasting
Darkness

Roads with no return
No one missing us astray
Ways so imprecise
Godforsaken gets unstrained

And these ways imprinted in my days
Captured in my life
Your drained aspiration fails
What's left of yourself

As the morning rise
Canvas looks back at me
Paintings bright as eyes
On the balcony

As my strings vibrate
I write a book
Of a man of own fantasy
That's how you look


5. TRIGGER

Leave away your promises
Nothing matters when I depart
To the woods of inhumanity
Where no such occasions occur

Between the street lamps
Someone in the trees approaches me
With a dim candle
I can't stop and so I quicken

On a way to yesterday
I arrive where the darkness cries

In a series of days
Something knocked me out of the rut
Your eyes, my fears
All the rest is the trivia

Left away your promises
Nothing matters as I depart
To the woods of inhumanity
Where no such occasions start

Deeds are few, words are many
We stuck somewhere in between
Only those who sleep in hearse
Not afraid of death

In a series of days
Something knocked me out of the rut
Your words – my trigger
All the rest is the stuff


6. ARTIFACT OF GOD, ALL GOLD

The familiar feeling
You step into the temple of your soul
As part of something innermost
Something's bubbling right inside you

Hope is born inside you
Passing right beside you

Artifact of god
To your knees
All gold
I believe

Implicit faith
You and I
Holding our hands
We collide

Abandoned halls, net curtains of cobwebs
The water is all around my gloom
Broken machinery that stole us
Books which grant no solace