Sacred Haven of Debauchery

A clumsy oaf, head in the clouds. Extremely touchy—don't even touch him! Hypocritical. A dreamer—"not here and not now." A hopeless romantic. Lives in the pink world of his own fantasies. Takes it very painfully when his world clashes with the outside world. Loves various trinkets and gadgets. Doesn't know how to handle money, often gets cheated. Absent-minded, frequently loses things.
Why even talk about these woodlice, there's nothing to take from them except poetry. Now, if anyone are masters at getting into trouble, it's the Eses—they get a kick in the teeth from life and start whining for the whole world to hear; you can't find enough pity for them.
Everything is wonderful until you have to work with him. His twitching over every little thing evokes pity and irritation simultaneously; a mass of time is spent on explanations and ethical equivocations, maintaining relationships as Es sees them, and dragging him back into the practical world. Lifting a hammer over a nail is harder for him than going into battle against an enemy. A brave soul and a brawler. A drunk Es is "lights out, don't even shine"—he's prone to fighting, stabbing you in the stomach with a fork or in the ass with an awl;[not when drunk, since he's never been, but when angry or out of his mind)] controlled only by a firm, unwavering gaze: all forks miraculously disappear, followed by babbling about eternal love and affection. Completely undeveloped Esenins are infuriating with their constant stories of illusory proof of how much someone loves or respects them. Incredibly naive, terribly lazy in things they find uninteresting. Prone to using friends, sometimes bores, touchy, vengeful, want a lot, and they want it all at once. They perceive themselves and the world distortedly, seeking a strong friend and support. As a rule, those friends who don't help in a difficult moment cease to be considered friends. Often detached from reality and take it painfully when they bump their heads against the cruel world. They love their illusions. Blows of fate turn them into cynics. Mercenary. Hates terribly, loves selflessly, but a person of extremes, in whom youthful maximalism rages for a long time. Terribly jealous (maybe). Values his creative impulses above all else. He'll rip anyone's throat out for them. Very conceited and wants to be loved, noticed, and appreciated. A nervous, unhappy creature, locked in a tiny world, wanting a fairy tale and preferring to die than to live like this.
Esenins are monotonous, tedious. Cannot always fight back. Too fragile, easily suggested; due to innate decency, they suffer themselves, touchy. Constantly make up all sorts of nonsense, detached from life and useless to anyone. Constantly drop and break things, but do nothing, and if they do, they'll spoil something in the process. Slow on the uptake.
But internally very aggressive, dictators.
Why even talk about these woodlice, there's nothing to take from them except poetry! Constantly exist in the world of their dreams, completely detached from real life. Try to pull him out of the cloud-lands and bring him down to earth, and he immediately gets a kick in the teeth from life and starts whining for the whole world to hear, you can't find enough pity for them. Contact with the cruel real world turns them into cynics, requires the search for a strong partner, and breeds internal aggression and a drive for dictation. Give him some vodka, and hide all sharp objects in the house: he's prone to fighting, stabbing you in the stomach with a fork or in the ass with an awl. His hands grow from his ass: constantly dropping and breaking everything, but doing nothing, and if he does, he'll spoil something, and as for losing something—he's a natural. Slow on the uptake, but wants everything all at once. Fragile, neurotic, touchy, unimaginably conceited and jealous. They choose friends mercenary-style, those who can provide him constant assistance.