21 september 2017
Paused
Exfoliated, I come to you,
to scratch the blighted
palace of the body, where
a god lived once.
Dervish, when did you stop
whirling? The tomb is gone,
the shroud tattered. I am
collecting the withered roses.
It rips open, the black fruit
showing the bleeding stone.
How did I believe, the tiniest
particle will create the universe.
The tree was felled scattering
the seeds. An unsure hand,
pulls on the leash and sets
the entrapped animal free.
4 august 2025
wiesiek
4 august 2025
absynt
3 august 2025
wiesiek
3 august 2025
absynt
2 august 2025
Jaga
31 july 2025
absynt
31 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
absynt
28 july 2025
Jaga
28 july 2025
absynt