4 may 2018
Sharp Murals
Nevermore you will talk
of the forked tongue.
The genie was out─
in the jungle of legs.
Hunger was in plain sight.
You were wary of the wild─
dogs hounding at your gate.
An augury of some spilled blood?
Lachrymal, the soot trickles
down from the black eyes on─
the marbled breast of a lone
survivor in the city of tombs.
Exhume you must the naked
truth? I will not ask the name
of the ravisher, in this crowd
of fast disappearing shoes.
6 march 2025
absynt
6 march 2025
Eva T.
6 march 2025
wiesiek
6 march 2025
ajw
6 march 2025
ajw
5 march 2025
wiesiek
5 march 2025
ajw
5 march 2025
absynt
4 march 2025
wiesiek
4 march 2025
Jaga