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.
10 january 2026
wiesiek
10 january 2026
Jaga
9 january 2026
wiesiek
9 january 2026
Jaga
8 january 2026
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7 january 2026
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6 january 2026
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5 january 2026
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4 january 2026
Jaga
4 january 2026
wiesiek