The blue radish

All shadows reflected
in their eyes' is a shame,
a capacious pit filled with violence
from our past;
their self-love comes from a lack of remorse.
Nobody gets it.

What they did
on this ellipsoid was genuine disgust.
We are viruses.
Dance with arrogance.

The tubby nimbuses were yelling;
they saw how the pavement ate someone;
There were s lovely smiles at the zebra cross,
and they licked their smartphones. 

Why did that glass
just dimly remember my palm?
Was I there --- in that kitchen?
Who can prove that day?
This country tightly hugs Budapest.
It is a giant amoeba.
I can see from the window
how its pseudopods glide through streets.

I am sitting in the kitchen.
It became my whole world.
Keep thinking about those
beautiful minutes
when I felt I was something like you.
Hope-man, success-man.
If I was there,
I would be repeating
with a smile smile smile:
"You are lovely.",
"You are good.",
"You are fantastic."

I am a crying dinosaur
and the suicide green dick
who wants to protect
all other creatures
from upright walkers.
Trying to protect me is defeat.

No over-complication?
Can Mr Nothing demolish this world?
They, they, they.
Average human fruits
 are dangling from the roofs.
They, they, they knew everything.
Blue corpses.

This place's majority,
around Budapest,
is a machine of permanent dishonesty.
All those nasty things
were done by them.
If you were here,
you should be able to hear
how their crying is screaming inside
those beautiful buildings' walls.
They were put into horror boxes and eliminated.
No pardon.

Did that loathing
come from your nose socket?
I am watching from the kitchen.
That pen, that phone,
and these fingers on my hands
are all unresponsive.
No moving, no writing.
The dark insects 
from the opposite windows
are watching in another direction. 

Please, do not use that anthropomorphism;
they do not deserve that condemnation.
I also do not want to be unfair to animals.
No reason for being over-bland. 

Mercy often gets pushed into an isolated plastic heart.
I do not know...
Question of pyramids.
Will I see that vegetation,
and that pond and those fishes again?
Why should
I accept those mischievous
destructions we committed?
Those real-hell things
we keep repeating are without limitations. 

Dying flies,
blooming eyes.
I don't know what
I should think.
I try to be without thoughts.
Emptying everything
I have in this thing what I am.
The dominion over nature,
the Bible, your thoughts,
your power,
that's general intellect.
Oh, humans.
Egoism, lying and narcissism.

The sadness is getting prepared.
It is mocking my smiles.
Shush, shush and the telemetry data of us
just spraying from that blue radish,
It is saved and processed,
so we can disappear now.