My stomach has reached a huge size, but nothing will be born from it
The half-life of an era is covered with indifferent ashes
People who stole air from their throats came again
These people beat the conscience out of the body and the body becomes empty (white?)

Killed foliage underfoot turns into a bird
Crunch underfoot plays chess with violence
Christ underfoot is a crunch
Does the rain of Rainer Kunze crunch the leaves-Christ underfoot or inside?

Again people come and hammer the conscience into the body as if they are pressing on the cut of a pencil
At the same time fear and despair are driven into the open belly

under the pressure of the tin night the pink wall turns red
green greenery are covered with red redery
children approach a hungry mother and say that they are not afraid
a black bird emerges from behind a broken window
all colors mix into rat vomit and concentration camp grates become milk
mother tries to drink milk but can't
children dissolve in the air that is paid for in blood

Mykyta Ryzhykh: Winner of the international competition “Art Against Drugs” and Ukrainian contests. Nominated for Pushcart Prize. Published many times in the Tipton Poetry Journal, Stone Poetry Journal, Divot journal, dyst journal, Superpresent Magazine, Allegro Poetry Magazine, Alternate Route, Better Than Starbucks Poetry & Fiction Journal, Littoral Press, Book of Matches, etc.