In the womb

the mother of the bloody race that the child is all under her heart with her sensual shadow

wears suddenly goes downstairs straight into the darkness inside the carriage

serial number 81-717.5/714.5 steel condensed milk for hungry people

called in the hands of the pseudo-mother of lies a piece of cardboard that sounded like words

everything is written on it plaintively thirsts and awaits the imminent birth of the flesh

their whole short journey begins as if from the end from the end of a snake's tail

composition loud noise interrupting pseudo-tears lying through the roar

a steel license plate asks for the birth of her baby, but no one hears

does not see, only the deaf-blind and mute emptiness hides behind the respected

Passengers be mutually polite and give up your seats to people with disabilities

elderly people, passengers with children and pregnant women

the sound of an electric bird's underground trill of an autoinformer

only a rustle and a whisper, but to think about the mother of the bloody race to think about the mother

bloody kind, but to think about the mother of the bloody kind that the child is all under

wears a sensual shadow in his heart and awaits the false birth of the heavy

maybe not everyone, not everyone, steel condensed milk dances gently

runs wild as a free beast in the tunnel, rushes howling, opening the doors

then closing in front of the mother of the bloody kind that the child is all under the heart

wears its lying, sensual shadow, gathering for the birth of the heavy

burden resolution destroying pregnant body deaf-blind

the space of the omnipresent scream of noise that rumbles in the ears turning

in the gloomy laughter of heavy sleepers and the squeals of crazy rails do not allow you to sleep

to the one who hangs in the deep womb locked between birth and death

forever imprisoned in the maternal vicious flesh of the pseudo-mother of the race

bloody pseudo-mother of the bloody race oh pseudo-mother of the bloody race what

the child carries a false shadow under its heart and awaits false birth

heavy secret burden resolution destroys the pregnant body

crowds of people, hardened, insensitive, bitter, guilt-crazed

bears the deaf-blind mute sinlessness of the soul and replaces it with sinfulness

flesh, the eerie grinding of the steel composition muffles with its meek voice

so that it doesn’t accidentally awaken in the deep womb

pseudo-child of dashing misfortune, the fruit of copulation with bestial passion

The first carriage was cut open with a scalpel, and he timidly straightens the wires with his hand.

the bare, vile bosom of the city hears and echoes rhythmically the words of prayer

carefully the doors are closing next station no light

suddenly a piercing explosion, followed by nothing and silence