20 march 2020
Against Tattoos
Don't print on the body
a pattern, grayesh red.
Damask rose?
The cilia will propel you
into the tunnel.
Clowns have assembled
on the street, to write
the history of fall.
Acts of kindness are being
translated into profanities.
You are hurt by the
petals, thrown at you.
Kingmaker, why you have become
a joker?
Red lilies?
Do you like the buttercups?
Eyes ago, there was a bouquet.
I am not sure, why you were walking
on nails.
24 november 2024
0018absynt
24 november 2024
0017absynt
24 november 2024
0016absynt
24 november 2024
0015absynt
24 november 2024
2411wiesiek
23 november 2024
0012absynt
22 november 2024
22.11wiesiek
22 november 2024
Pod miękkim śniegiemJaga
22 november 2024
Liście drzew w czerwonychEva T.
21 november 2024
21.11wiesiek