12 october 2020
Unborn Desires
When I make a heap
of all my killer pains,
rains come.
A half-moon casts
a spell. Hope used to
have many colors.
A black magic
ruffles the feathers, casually.
Peacock forgets to dance.
Rocks. Like rare earths.
Difficult to separate you
from me. The call of the mountain
rattles me again. Will
that continue, unending
path, towards non-existence?
In the dark greens, it
was a murder, I cannot find
the blue moon.
4 august 2025
wiesiek
4 august 2025
absynt
3 august 2025
wiesiek
3 august 2025
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2 august 2025
Jaga
31 july 2025
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31 july 2025
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30 july 2025
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28 july 2025
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28 july 2025
absynt