13 february 2013
FROM LIDS
a facsimile of torture
candlelit in moony dark
i want to unread the anointed death
on this tip of an arrow,
here it comes
the hissed phrase
wrenching the gut –
for conceptual withdrawl,
dawn of dark secrets
without footprints of echo
extracting a price,
do not stop fighting,
smear me with blood
hot spurts of thrills to defend the pink
in valley of counterfeits blades,
the green was fake,
the red was fake,
pure white poison
Satish Verma
25 august 2025
wiesiek
24 august 2025
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24 august 2025
absynt
24 august 2025
absynt
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Jaga
16 august 2025
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14 august 2025
wiesiek
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt