Губы, ресницы, скулы,
Жопа, спортзал, вся хуйня.
Купил вчера себе куклу —
Ну, здравствуй, Барби моя.
Ты точно не Кена искала,
И я искал не любви.
Осталось дело за малым —
Зарядку найти и носки.
Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Prague, 2022 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power
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This poem plays with the aesthetics of modern perfection — bodies, routines, artificial love. Behind the irony is the right to desire, to choose your own version of intimacy. The plastic world here is not shameful — it’s just another frontier of ****** autonomy.
