mess in my head

mess in my head

понедельник, 26 августа 2013 г.

Big City M


The place itself isn’t cursed but everyone here seems to believe so. It’s like a snowball effect, depression amplifies with every nervous driver, every sickly face on Moscow metro, with the first slushy shit-like snow, with the first guy who breaks her heart and smokes himself to death.

I don’t know. The thing is, nobody knows. Compassion is nonexistent in our hearts, our hearts don’t believe in us anymore. I sit in my kitchen and feel alien. I’d much rather be elsewhere, in somebody else’s kitchen, drinking somebody else’s tea.


I breath in this air, I can see what it’s made of; dirt, desperation, misery, alcohol and whores. I smell anger of young and indifference of old. I smell shit food and dog crap. This is my Moscow and there’s nothing I can do but run.