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.
29 march 2026
absynt
29 march 2026
absynt
28 march 2026
absynt
27 march 2026
wiesiek
25 march 2026
wiesiek
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
marka
24 march 2026
wiesiek