18 september 2016
Uneven Path
It was a summer night.
A windswept moonbeam
plummeted. Sexualizing
an indigo flesh. A butcher
was seducing
a spider, in company of
a holy book. Sunbathing in
mass grave of skulls. The eyes
peeking out of the caps.
You want to pluck the blue
berries from
volcano mounts. The key player
will burn your script. Body
of milk died on snow. The
moth was coming out of cocoon.
1 july 2024
Satish Verma
30 june 2024
Eva T.
30 june 2024
wiesiek
30 june 2024
Eva T.
30 june 2024
Satish Verma
29 june 2024
wiesiek
29 june 2024
jeśli tylko
29 june 2024
Satish Verma
28 june 2024
Eva T.
28 june 2024
Satish Verma