26 january 2020
An Acrimonious Dialogue
The ambrosial ending
of the day. I was not sure
of myself. How would the
thumb mould the pen
in internal search
of cavities?
You are not going to live
hundred years. Falling from
the terrace, with a thud,
lying in the pool of blood, till you
find the celibate truth?
Between the dust and dawn
lies the dark. The oesophageal
reflux makes a hole
in each eye. Can you
read in the thick fog
of absent faces?
7 june 2025
wiesiek
6 june 2025
wiesiek
5 june 2025
wiesiek
4 june 2025
wiesiek
3 june 2025
wiesiek
2 june 2025
wiesiek
13 may 2025
marka
13 may 2025
marka
9 may 2025
wiesiek
6 may 2025
Eva T.