9 october 2019
The Seeker
Skin bleached in moon,
you prepare yourself tonight to hit the mystry,
of a recipient. The days are
tattooed on your body. The hands become claws.
A terrorist, becomes a canine,
biting blood-hot.
Like the opal, in a slow stream
of light, displaying the pisces around your―
eyes, swimming. There is no
money left to bring the milk of blue pain.
A physical contact via moon,
would you talk to me after the glorious sunset?
O, multiheaded cobra,
which of your hood is going to strike me
25 july 2025
wiesiek
24 july 2025
wiesiek
23 july 2025
wiesiek
22 july 2025
wiesiek
22 july 2025
ajw
21 july 2025
ajw
21 july 2025
wiesiek
20 july 2025
wiesiek
19 july 2025
wiesiek
19 july 2025
ajw