don't hug him

don't hug him like you used to hug me

do it less real, please!

don't with my hands-your hands

I have became pregnant since we broke up

one whole life grows up inside me

sometimes I feel sick, sometimes overloaded with life

I look like myself only from outside

from inside I look like yourself in a thousand different ways

Roentgen had invented his rays

I have invented krunrays for taking rays of soul

On the soul-rays of myself  you are seen:

opening your hands in intending to hug

looking with your eyes lightening myself

spreading your soul as drug through my veins

wondering of such unusual krunhouse-krunland-krunworld

There is no pleasure like life

just a treasure of remembering love

dead love, which is reborn in me every single day

I'm tired of a dissolute infinity, which prepares so many events

 and perfomances in me, with you in a leading role

(millions of people aplaud and scream and go out and in)

don't hug him, please, I can't stand it

don't with my hands-your hands

(you were mine and everything yours is still mine)

that's why the poet exists

he is like a people's parent – can't lose sight of everybody of everything

every event which happens in the world is resent through him

 in the saint's words

don't look at him with my eyes

don't love him with our love

don't kiss him with my tears

don't kill me, please, I'm barely alive

Inside me instead of me you are living

you captured krunhouse-krunland-krunworld

and live there with a behavior typical of every conqueror

PS: Don’t force me to be a  poet;

(can’t you see how hard that is)

that definitely wasn't my young dream.