22 april 2020
Penury Ward
In tattered clothes.
I would see my returned privation.
I will make the holes bigger,
so that light seeps in,
on my blackened chest.
The lovers will not meet
today, out, in open;
on moonward path.
The charred remains―
of the rope are visible.
The soaked blanket, to sleep in,
has become infernal.
What are you drinking now?
No other passage,
no exit, even the kiss of death?
25 august 2025
wiesiek
24 august 2025
wiesiek
24 august 2025
absynt
24 august 2025
absynt
23 august 2025
wiesiek
18 august 2025
Jaga
16 august 2025
wiesiek
14 august 2025
wiesiek
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt