Beloje More

Mind rushes. Mind kills.

Children and toys fall from burning buildings, land on the blood soiled ground. Organs begin to grow. Spine, heart, lung. I try to pick them like flowers. Magic mushroom tray.

Oh god please kill me.

Rape me.

Eat my cunt.

Me and Polina masturbate in the woods. My brother and I run through the fog; a carpet of rotten leaves under our bare feet.

The disease is in our blood, already planted in our filthy genes. 

These bonds can't be broken, these bonds can't be denied.

And it's the darkest of times. An eternal dawn shades my pale, russian, tormented face.