"Мне всё кажется, что на мне штаны скверные, и что я пишу не так, как надо, и что даю больным не те порошки. Это психоз, должно быть." А. П. Чехов
Ballad of a Mermaid

Far out in the ocean where the water is as blue as the petals of the loveliest cornflower, and as clear as the purest glass, there:

I can't feel my legs
I can't feel my legs
I can't feel my legs
I can't feel my legs
I can't feel my legs
I can't feel my legs
I can't feel my legs
I can't feel my legs

But why does one need legs
anyway
when dissolving into sea foam
in Times Square?



@музыка: Nina Simone - Strange Fruit

@настроение: swings.

@темы: стихоплетение