If only I could cross out the memories.
If only memory could be tamed.
If it were possible night torment
turn into stone.
Carry it around the corner of the house,
Hide near the basement
So that the soul does not stumble, does not fall.
If you could forgive and no longer be afraid
This Nervous Memory that wants you
And do not feel like the main one, among the clowns,
and do not rush in a dream in the middle of the night.
And do not hide your face behind empty palms
And do not torment your ears with a shrill whistle
And do not stand on a dirty empty platform
in search of meaning.
What could be worse than memories
Those from which you can not run away, do not hide
Those that you can’t forgive yourself, that you can’t grab with your hands
The ones you can’t get rid of
Those from which we poison ourselves with vodka
Those from which we breathe in cigarette smoke
Those from which our gaits stoop
And quatrains are born
Those from which we increasingly get up at night
We look out the window, spit poison into the curtains
Those from which pillowcases are torn to shreds
with a bang…
…Time does not heal, but teaches us to live in short
Believe, forgive, endure, understand, etc.
And my memory is a plague kamikaze
Among the dots…