8 december 2021
In Depression
Your face swims like
a myth.
Night spreads the veil
of a cloud on the
white breast of moon.
No family. Words
move in different tacks.
Water heals, when
your feet were sore.
Soya beans. You have roasted
them alive in jumpsuits.
The faith becomes a devil.
The black eye
waits for the rain to
wash the racial smudge.
30 january 2025
3001wiesiek
30 january 2025
Nawet w styczniu jest wiosnaJaga
30 january 2025
0039absynt
30 january 2025
Nadiaajw
29 january 2025
0038absynt
29 january 2025
2901wiesiek
29 january 2025
0037absynt
28 january 2025
2801wiesiek
27 january 2025
W styczniu i nie dziwi nicJaga
27 january 2025
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