9 december 2023
Sad Protégé
I don't recognize
you, after giving
a pause to poem.
It was an eerie
accident. I don't own
my body, and you don't
own your tears.
With solemnity, I
place my book, on the road
going nowhere. To be
read by the sun.
You buy the words
I sell the silence.
The hyphens wail.
Cost rises.
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt
14 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
wiesiek
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt
13 august 2025
absynt