15 july 2012
MIRAGE
A futurist virginity in black rose
was seeking posthumous award
for immoral kisses of thorns.
Unaware of lethal thighs
skipping the lunar landscape
at night.
Were you going to leap over
the mountains curling across the glaciers
of white pain?
I will extend the shadow
of infinite truth,
when we talk about the half-death
of unborn hunger.
Satish Verma
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