1 december 2019
No Carnage
A house without doors
I was living
in fog.
The infamous review
will tell about the
fallen words from the roof.
There was no history,
no culture of
cannibalism.
I only exhaled
the grief of centuries
shielding the ankle's pain.
There had been no
perfect picture of the
dancing god in nude.
A blue face swims.
I draw the map of the smell
of cinders.
5 may 2024
0505wiesiek
5 may 2024
N2absynt
5 may 2024
Poetic JusticeSatish Verma
4 may 2024
N1absynt
4 may 2024
Izerska rzekakalik
4 may 2024
0405wiesiek
4 may 2024
Suffering Was RightSatish Verma
3 may 2024
M1absynt
3 may 2024
0305wiesiek
3 may 2024
I Was LostSatish Verma