3 czerwca 2012
Obsessıon
Would not place any price-tag
on me. Like a mannequin dug out from a pit
goes for sale.
Abhor the duplicity.
Want to walk straight –
without the golden thong.
The city goes in flames
in a circle.
A new fountain was singing.
They were landing in flocks.
The old birds of same plumage
coming to collect the due of old virgins.
There was no message.
Letterbox was empty.
I will not wait for snowfall in the Antarcita.
Satish Verma
28 marca 2026
sam53
28 marca 2026
wiesiek
28 marca 2026
violetta
28 marca 2026
sam53
28 marca 2026
sam53
28 marca 2026
sam53
28 marca 2026
absynt
28 marca 2026
dobrosław77
28 marca 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
28 marca 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)