23 february 2021
Dragging The Clouds
And my love, when do we talk
of wilderness
and daisy blooms?
The snakeskin-
twirls, and I watch the
wriggling night moving away.
I swallow the
empty words. They are not
heavy and no concoction.
The body and desires.
I have let then slip away,
my dreams, my knocks.
Against the dying of
blueberries in your eyes,
I will not wash the stains.
The curve of umbilicus
still remembers the dazzling
fall.
31 july 2025
wiesiek
31 july 2025
absynt
31 july 2025
absynt
31 july 2025
absynt
31 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
wiesiek
30 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
absynt
30 july 2025
absynt