11 may 2013
MUTATION
Like black birds
homing in twilight, to the tree
my thoughts make a perfect landing.
I lift the silence in sleep.
A flying snake enters
a pink room.
A bullet pierces the heart.
No acolytes, I will
catch myself the drifting smell
of eternal caress. Basking
in pain I pluck up my
trail in rubble of dreams.
You defy the likeness to god
become poor like an undershirt.
and walk straight.
Satish Verma
13 august 2025
wiesiek
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
12 august 2025
wiesiek
11 august 2025
Jaga
11 august 2025
absynt
11 august 2025
absynt