it's hard to be god in russia.
i smoke 7 ruble cigarettes and
repeat, repeat, repeat:
i don't have to belong,
i don't have to fit in.
yegelsky, gurianov, goncharov
wide-eyed, vulnerable, forbidden
(their pride, their dedication, their surrender
their stained fingers, their bitten nails)
red dress, red lipstick
i taste war in their blood
as they walk through me
dear soldier boy,
i won't turn my head away
these endless parks are your territory
and by now i know that where angels fear
to tread is where you have to be.
moscow, 4.25 am, stray dogs, stray souls
dead leaves in my hands
oh please, may i pray for you?
