When a cat sits on my knees
spreading the alpha-waves with its purr,
I plunge into the dark night of my own heart.
It's winter there,
there's a moon with a Gallo around it like a peach stone,
there the snow creaks under the feet of out-of-world passers-by,
there the long-dead stars twinkle dimly,
there are rusty broken light stands swaying in the wind,
there is no love, affection, tenderness.
You feel depressed there
as if you take a good dose of haloperidol.
You're listening to whining high-frequency sounds of urban life.
You brain requires strong alcohol,
but common sense shows him a fuck,
because you're not to mix lithium with brandy.
This is the way to the split existence,
when your heart lives in one city,
and your mind in another.