9 february 2019
Becoming Myself
A ghost truth
levels down,
the traffic. You enter
into catatonic stage.
Rage and anguish
will ask,
for the price of blood
flown down the river.
Listening
with the eyes. Leaffall,
luteus, music of descent
on grass.
A dust storm
settles on sill. I will
look through the window, at
a setting sun, unadored.
15 august 2025
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14 august 2025
wiesiek
14 august 2025
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14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
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13 august 2025
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13 august 2025
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13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt