built this whole feeling
tall as your step
deep as your voice
and i left

vanishing
the only cause
for not breathing

take me where all cars are sleeping
and all trees are awake

---

She is constantly imagining that she's someone's bad dream.
and now she is not awake
must be the reason why she's not wearing her slippers
and feels cold seeing her nails pale-blue
a delicate and frightening color

And she is constantly feeling guilty for not daring...
And not knowing what to dare - the guilt hangs like a wet cloth on her back
in the terrible cold outside, because that's what she puts on her shoulders
or may be the cold outside was dreamed by somebody else?
Or she is the cold in the dream of an innocent, chased man
and she's constantly afraid
have you noticed that word 'constantly'
we know so little about it
it's rarely friendly with us, it's not a word that sits and discuss its daily life with you
However
...So she is constantly afraid of how people will wake up from her as if she's a dream
Waking up relieved for she's no longer their dream
and nothing of what she has caused them never happened
It's like with you
when you do something great and see it
in a little while crushed
under the wheels of a powerful car
spinning slightly as a butterfly
crushing lightly and passing over the great 'deed'

She is imagining all the wrong things,
phone numbers written backwards on her hands..
Falling asleep
with her forehead leaning the payphone
that speaks to her with monotone drone
Monotony is another side of constancy but more accessible and more conversational ...
Monotony is getting along with dreams although they can`t continue forever
There are also known some short forms of monotony which means the same repetitive tone
Some people always speak to us with the same tone ...when they didn't get much of a sleep
or they sound awfully equally when they are hungry
just wonder why they can't hear this unbearable note in their voice
They would change it themselves ... without someone to start speaking to them with a changed timbre
Timbre..of sleep
The timber of other people's sleep...
She was afraid of the mess she creates for them in their sleep
In daytime she is walking incurring heavy woolen conscience, conscience- starched collar, conscience-coat, conscience-linen, conscience-boots, conscience-heavy as scarlet plush
Something observable from afar so they can easily indicate it, point at
This is also a thing that you may not endure In the moments of light...
before a ceremonial shame surrounded by family and parental care and parental negligence, friendly insouciance, friendly intrusiveness - eyesore for all audiences abiding our fears ..
our dreams ...
'What did you dream, my dearie?'
the mother asks her child who wakes up with drowning scream ...
and here it is - the fear to tell is already born
The fear to tell what was there, everything that was, everything you are
This fear will start walking in the winter streets and mocks about the rubber platforms the metal heels or linen scarves, will mock about the rabbit tails of those pretty individuals and their long, but not enough long front legs

----

brain/brainless from foxe on Vimeo.

it's my brain in a plastic bag
it's my spoon
in a dirty empty cup
it's this mouth
my mouth
and the words you threw
and the way you shut it
It was a moment
that could last forever
if we weren't so short
if we weren't so different
if we weren't so us

it's my brain in a plastic bag
kids playing with it under the sun
elder playing with it after sunset
it's my brain over there
OVER THERE

speaking over your shoulder
sparkling over the past 24 years
sparkling
in spite of the white plastic bag

7

The first door of the dream

- I'm surrounded by fog ... I don`t know how to divide it

It will slowly go away from me, and yet
I wouldn't know
if I am haunted


Second door of the dream:

Quickly I'm leaving the city
whose eyes are crying
whose hands can not reach
Weather's so quiet but I wish there was wind
to blow her hair and hide her teary eyes


Third door of the dream:

I realize your existence
your hand on mine
makes it whiter

We are two completely identical worlds
when we finally see it - we'll be no longer alike


Fourth door of the dream:

I'm traveling between white slender trees

I need
I have such need to conceal all whiteness
snuggle up between you trees
and bend

My father 
My mother
My older sisters
I'm walking between them
Silence quenched me
I'm understood


Fifth door of the dream:

I can see the traces which I haven't left yet

I'm treating the disease before I get ill

I love before falling in love

I am traveling


Sixth Door of the dream:

I'm filling my breasts with you
Quietude
Nothing superfluous

Your warm breath in a cup of milk
(I want to become one with it)
While the city corrodes
under tons of lactic fog


Seventh gate of the dream:

 I'm losing my sleep
my dream is dissolving over you
I bend 
softly kissing your knees

The fog
returns into the body
I didn't know I was free to leave

I didn't know I might be the one
who's chasing it

-

good luck, small submarine
don't go anywhere
just carry away more often
before their eyes
where nothing happens
you exist there
whole - comprehension
muddling the water
of their understanding
they will see more often the dirt
and not you..

it's needless to say 'Never'
we're shorter than that 'never'
leaders of the shadows
sandmen
dreamers

gluey in that second
and then you slid out of their beds and houses
slid out ..escaping their standpoints, numbers,
dodge from their favourable faces
dodge from your burden
dodge behind the outlines of the cities
slipping out slow wind
slow returning of the ingredients

escaping the hunger, the thirst..
fingers sliding from the cup
broke up with them
broke up with all needs

bye
when you say goodbye
to those who lived with a short slip of unconscious courtesy
those real faces of people you lived behind
and you drunk cyanide with and hided rough gemstones with
divide them!
ciao bella
/special list with greetings/

it's all about your credulity to steal the smile
and the whole time for smiles of one single person
that you believed you need

good luck little submarine
you stood long enough

anticipation
is
rising

..

Am I not
Result of a vision
Laughter in the mirror
Verse in the dark
Voices
In twilight
Known
And cursed
For the same reasons

Am I not
your girl
always touched
to ensure
your existence
The one who reached
your
vision
illusion
the first taste of a girl

Am I not
fruit
house of a worm
after your leaving

he:
the hardness of the soft sounds
endless line
cardiac
bloody
nervous
an order

his embrace -
fractal
allowed
on the border
of our returning

<<<>>>

so as to know everything ...she's not asking anything

the secret shall be entered slowly ...
as it has become part of me
I will become part of it
when it moves away - I will proceed
when secret make a move then I will step back
The secret knows this dance
better than us


don't spill the beans
do not say -'that's what I am',
do not say 'I'm going to give you that dream'
because my dreams and yours are not just circulation coins
you will wake up in me while I'm falling asleep in you
and this discrepancy
already cost us a lot

---
I am not leaving the house
The key goes alone
going out for a walk
then unlocks
and tells me
how was it there
where I weren't

the key slept two days
hanged on the neck of a boy
learned many games
now it has stories
at least for a week

I am not leaving the house
the key goes alone
and sometimes it does not return

I'm not giving-away
when jealous
oh no
I don't protrude
when I dream
how I'm gone
and how to get back
I don't know

0

I couldn't lose you
I could only slow you down

_______

silence
full of love and irritation of love
desire for power
to overbear and to attaint
desire without any purpose

not an empty square but beautiful circle
describes the finger of inspiration
Inspiration dressed in lace
 caramel color
 color of cream and coffee
banana flakes
placed in a pure hand of a girl

embroidering it's sword right in my heart
my heart is its end
but who could start from the end

permeance

possibility

hope

silk point of a needle
clear glass
gaze
breath

lack of a kiss

and billions of small ways
to wrap in a mist
the bullet-proved desire

.

_ from foxe on Vimeo.

I don't want to clean
don't want to relax
don't like my bed
don't like to watch this
don't like this smell
don't want to suffer
I want to suffer
I want to waste
I want to cook for supper
I want to eat your shame
I want to shake your snake
I want to taste this grape
I have to clean my way
don't want to run or lay
I don't want to
I like them when they sleep
I want to bzzz and beep
I'm free and naked bee
I used to like this house
I used to like that street

I don't need people but mailboxes..is what I thought

/ the greatest spider called Desire/

sunday song

The Sunday song of those who were ceased to believe
Men - waving bells are caressing the wind
Women are straining forearms walking stiffly
beneath their skirts - hiding their curses
covert lists of names
names of sons and daughters
future or dead

The priests buried in sleep on the thresholds of their churches
The young boys are gathering on the hills
throwing each other as if they were stones
Little girls are cutting and burying their curls
Half-asleep the night guards are dancing and rattling their keys
And all doors in the city remain open and the lights are crackling
and dead crickets are falling from the dead lamps

The Sunday song inverts the arrows and stops the clocks
flowing and flowing
over drunks and dishonest
making them angels
baptizing them in a holy sweet ignorance
now and forever

Mrak

The One-eyed Mrak, the tomcat
turns the corner
moves the withered leaves
of the road before smelling them
"Fall's over" - he thought
and sniffed
then sneezed and answered with "hhhh" to other cats

Mrak slipped through a window
and found one forgotten girl's lap
He caressed tender the legs of the chair
and went out
'Outside is a refuge? For how long?'
In none of the long days
the one-eyed cat
couldn't see much sense

the forgotten girl:

'The night under my covers
was so warm inside
for the cat named Mrak
I loved him in a special way
May be because he was the only one
who knew of my existence
He never asked
why did I took
one of his eyes
half of the light
and the left side of the things
Anyway
The one-eyed Mrak - the tomcat
is the best friend
I've ever had
He's walking around my body
while I'm asleep
My covers - his night sky
my knees and elbows
are for him small and surmountable
obstacles
When he claws my face
I'm not mad
I think that he skillfully draws
the wounds
which I myself
will not be able to cause'

-
The One-eyed tomcat awaken
between the forgotten girl's legs
He licked one of his nails
content of himself purred
then slipped out from the opened window
when suddenly he was swept away by the coach
....

It's alright
he never existed
in the left side

of the road

*мрак [mrak] - darkness

y

I am
my own backup plan
my eye
thin and glossy
sheet of paper
mirror sheet
that extracts
your image
from mine

my visibility
your causality

there is a forest
 you will lose me there
and that's what happens
to mirrors when traveling
to the forests when traveling
when the forest takes on its way
collecting the thoughts
of the lonesome trees
cut and left and by the men

you're the one who tells me
'you are your own backup plan'
the memory of the cup
is the memory of a kiss
I am falling asleep thinking of it

I'll be walking behind you
even if you never turn back
and you'll be walking behind me
even if I think
I am my only companion
and my last backup plan

we last seconds
and then
the music flows
in a memory of a dream

*

are you going to meet
a little shy girl
to fill your pockets with chestnuts
so trees can start whisper her name
to you

i will tell you a story
the saddest tale
for the saddest king
a tale for silver key
lips,
shall you stop me
or shall you hear me first?

*

tense breathing - makes the slowest dance
what's gathering us in this world
what's crossing us
as a weak plants
clinched to each other
for the sip of light
higher!

phantasms

*

I heard a trumpet
in the end of the street
and some voices
blue long train
of women - caressed strings
laughing
carrying fruits, almonds and raisins for him
who will treat them with coffee
playing the whole night
for them

*
I whist
I don't reprimand you
now each of us is alone
each of us is conquest of the Night
so I forgive you

*
marooned street
dream under construction
I'm wandering in the dark
searching a way beyond me

*
I will be zealous - defending the constant gap!
What are you hiding?

Nothing

I'm just trying to outrun
the Lie that I kept inside

but this race is already doomed
and my victory
made of forced transience
leads to
sought and found darkness

d

Brave little soldier, the war began in the morning, in bed ...
in combat with dreams
there are thousands awake men
behind their borders
men with strong fears
fears of strong men
rambling behind the closed eyes
Even if you sleep with one eye opened a certain fear can break a trail
and enter your room quietly and steal your cover quietly -
the only cover prescribed to you
The War is in the dreams - do not think there is no blood,
red and shed
It's in the dream
where the blood is learning to roar and to raise
going to heaven
going to blaze
As a matter of fact
Dreams can anticipate events
and determine the dates of upcoming battles
Listen to me, little brave soldier,
I am a dream and I'm telling you this .
I will appear as a dream
thousand times till you understand
that in the difference I'm telling you always the same
about
the border, where they will send you
about
the planets which will fall into disagreement
about
your friends who could
surrender you to the enemy

All of these things is singing the dream
when the dream happen to be like a melody
or if not - it can take your clear mind and speak with a thick female voice
(for everybody to laugh)
During the war the dreams are the astonishing strategists,
the dreams are impeccable then
A little brave soldier,
on the battlefield of sleep
keep your legs fast and your heart slow
Keep yourself from the eyes of the young white girls
Because they are also dreams,
because they shoot you in the back,
because they have targeted you and not the goal is important -
It's you!
You're important
little tin soldier ...
I am the dream - listen to me