10 january 2015
ECSTASY
A pink rose was set to strip
letting the leaves fall.
The roots were jealous of a thorn
for stealing the blood from heart.
It was the last page of a book,
no more commas, no full stop.
The dead tongue now seeks syntax
of the lips that smell like enemies.
Two hard little breasts start a dance
like geraniums on bush.
Between the shadows of thighs
slept the pride.
11 april 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
11 april 2026
wiesiek
11 april 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
11 april 2026
Anthony DiMichele
10 april 2026
wiesiek
10 april 2026
Jaga
10 april 2026
Jaga