{"id":16344,"date":"2026-06-15T07:23:42","date_gmt":"2026-06-15T05:23:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=16344"},"modified":"2026-06-16T22:24:48","modified_gmt":"2026-06-16T20:24:48","slug":"poems-by-mykyta-ryzhykh-8","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=16344","title":{"rendered":"poems by Mykyta Ryzhykh"},"content":{"rendered":"

wine<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

remember we drank together tasteless wine from a cardboard box<\/p>\n

now I’m even poorer and I drink only your silence<\/p>\n

\n

sometimes the thought creeps in that no one knows how to love<\/p>\n

sometimes the thought creeps in that no one knows how to live<\/p>\n

\n

this psycho killed you with his gun, smashing you like a crystal chrysanthemum<\/p>\n

the mirrors of the heavens are not able to reflect your faded beauty<\/p>\n

\n

they caught the killer and took his word that he didn’t know about your orientation<\/p>\n

so no one will ever say that you are an innocent victim<\/p>\n

\n

remember I drank tasteless wine from a cardboard box<\/p>\n

imagining every time that one day I will drink this wine with you<\/p>\n

\n

\n

\n

Water-reflections first<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

I look into the water – in response everything speaks to death:<\/p>\n

This smooth immobility of the snake-current<\/p>\n

This stone speed of the scarab of minutes<\/p>\n

This time spent and hours tired of delaying our term<\/p>\n

In my palms like foliage and like pity<\/p>\n

In my palms crumpled worried water<\/p>\n

The lips of the deceased will forever remain dry<\/p>\n

\n

And there above the depth of the air another river flows<\/p>\n

The starry current like marble milk splashes out of the banks<\/p>\n

This is exactly what silence looks like and this night is endless<\/p>\n

I cannot touch this river I am incapable<\/p>\n

And young death like lightning floats out<\/p>\n

No one is able to speak either in words or thoughts<\/p>\n

\n

We are close to you like chicks to a nest<\/p>\n

Endless breadly prayedly death<\/p>\n

We are far from you like chitin from a trembling body<\/p>\n

Uncomfortable cast-iron bitten death<\/p>\n

\n

A bone will grow from my belly<\/p>\n

The rain will pour and the garden will bloom as before<\/p>\n

\n

Glass moonbeams will calm us all<\/p>\n

We have all overcome the fear of swimming<\/p>\n

We are all drowned<\/p>\n

\n

The impossible to pronounce lover’s seed dripped down<\/p>\n

I had no choice but to lick this sperm from the boot<\/p>\n

This night everything began anew and the morning is like death<\/p>\n

\n

And the morning like death knocks on the closed room<\/p>\n

I was again left in this bedroom absolutely alone<\/p>\n

(Did anyone ever truly love anyone or was it just faith in your love –<\/p>\n

Love as an extended ego as rightness)?<\/p>\n

\n

No one watered the iron flowers<\/p>\n

\n

\n

\n

Imaginary emptiness<\/strong><\/p>\n

\n

someone in a raincoat standing on the edge of a bus stop beats time out of himself<\/p>\n

*beaten time hurts unnecessary like a candle*<\/p>\n

I ask a mysterious creature: who are you: but he doesn’t remember<\/p>\n

it starts to rain for the first time and again: my lips drink milky and chitinous silence<\/p>\n

a man is a mystery like a sail dissolving in puddles bubbles voids<\/p>\n

and with him everything around dissolves and it seems to me that life is only a dying vision<\/p>\n

scarabs of minutes crawl along my *what is it called in books and dictionaries* leg<\/p>\n

in the distance I hear the footsteps of the water of the future and like stones or beans fall on my head<\/p>\n

these are your eyes father I suddenly think and then I understand that my father was eyeless<\/p>\n

*many became crippled after this or one of the subsequent wars*<\/p>\n

but what if this stone is only my former form of silence and the absence of which I was floating in my mother’s belly<\/p>\n

I don’t know<\/p>\n

in this world there are no objective things and ideas worth living for or believing in:<\/p>\n

realizing this would help get rid of many of humanity’s problems\\<\/p>\n

or I don’t know\/<\/p>\n

rock-filled nothingness<\/p>\n

I looked around<\/p>\n

emptiness reflected in the mirror<\/p>\n

and the mirrors without me are directed at each other<\/p>\n

*silence has no friends: only imitators*<\/p>\n

I screamed like a wave washing away the sand castles of childhood and adult dreams<\/p>\n

fear and despair are driven into the open belly<\/p>\n

meanwhile the shore grew to the size of my belly<\/p>\n

I fell silent like a wave that washed away forever the sand castles of childhood and adult dreams<\/p>\n

morning crept up unnoticed like the flag of the crow king in the black forest from which I emerged as a baby<\/p>\n

this forest robbed me this forest stole me at birth and appropriated me<\/p>\n

a cloud of ashes floated over the heads of the decks and the sailor fell asleep and looks at the stars in his sleep<\/p>\n

will this dream ever end or will the sailor never move from his place<\/p>\n

I don’t know and I don’t know<\/p>\n

and we both don’t know<\/p>\n

and we take a step towards each other<\/p>\n

and for the first time and again I see myself as a bee with three hearts<\/p>\n

the first heart for love and feelings<\/p>\n

the third heart for blood<\/p>\n

the second heart for sharing with others<\/p>\n

like a bee with three lives<\/p>\n

the first life for honey<\/p>\n

the second life for the swarm<\/p>\n

and why a third life is needed no one knows<\/p>\n

and I I don’t know<\/p>\n

and I don’t know<\/p>\n

and we both don’t know and we stand touching with empty red veins<\/p>\n

and we both sacrifice the silence of our home for your words<\/p>\n

*I haven’t been expecting words of love from you for a long time<\/p>\n

Lord*<\/p>\n

and we both sacrifice silence but you are silent<\/p>\n

and this rain is like an infection of happiness for no one<\/p>\n

we go into the garden but the garden turns out to be a forest<\/p>\n

I don’t know what a forest is and I leave this coffin as a corpse and a living being<\/p>\n

I inevitably slip on a piece of glass and prick myself until I bleed on the marble ice<\/p>\n

and I pass this bread and wine to the birds having already lost hope of finding the crow’s kingdom<\/p>\n

the other me screams:<\/p>\n

but suddenly I remember that I am all alone<\/p>\n

but suddenly I remember that everyone dies alone<\/p>\n

but suddenly I remember that everyone has their own world and every world dies because the ability to live and move the minute hands of a clock means simultaneously and continuously dying<\/p>\n

I fancied flowers without graves or graves without flowers<\/p>\n

a forest of minute hands of a clock grew in front of me<\/p>\n

the path led me to a gingerbread house made of meat<\/p>\n

corpses of flowers screamed under my feet like suicides because every birth means a quick death<\/p>\n

bones or flowers? crunching under your feet or inside your chest?<\/p>\n

the forest doors closed and I found myself on the outskirts of the city near a bus stop<\/p>\n

what is this?<\/p>\n

someone in a raincoat standing on the edge of a bus stop beats time out of himself<\/p>\n

\n

\n

\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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