18 may 2024
Misty Memories
Grey air. I will come to myself, igniting
the fire. When will be ground reality known?
Standing on the cusp of pain.
It was not a legitimised, valorused decision.
When you will leave the things as
they are. I tossed the new born thoughts.
Great walls were crumbling
unfolding the ugly ephemeral cults.
Who gnaws my poems? Don't search
my unuttered words for your maturation.
14 february 2026
wiesiek
14 february 2026
Jaga
13 february 2026
wiesiek
12 february 2026
Jaga
12 february 2026
wiesiek
11 february 2026
wiesiek
10 february 2026
Jaga
10 february 2026
nieRuda
9 february 2026
wiesiek
7 february 2026
wiesiek