5 august 2022
In Cursive Style
A bruise has appeared―
where you had kissed me,
last night. O Miranda―
I am not going for any other moon.
Like Uranus, I bleed
in my eyes; from every pore.
Astraphobia― I am going to
stay in dark.
This theology of aneurysms?
Who was hoodwinking
the ancient gods in the battle
of murderous themes? My hands
start shaking.
A blue rash spreads.
In honeyed voice you invoke
your angel and seek blessings―
before you go for a rape.
16 august 2025
wiesiek
16 august 2025
wiesiek
15 august 2025
wiesiek
14 august 2025
wiesiek
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
wiesiek
13 august 2025
absynt