19 lipca 2012
I AM NOT
Time capsule in gangrene
foot. It was madness of the legs.
There were no sins in the ghetto. Only
illicit distillation and girls changing
the beds.
It stinks when he says he was god.
What was the ism of the sex
in the language of violence? Trash, you
throw the half-eaten apple on the road,
and sun rises nonchalantly in penthouse.
Not the full moon tonight. I will filter
the moonlight in my cup stealing the
autumn from the lavender, despair
of the tormenter.
Satish Verma
16 maja 2025
sam53
16 maja 2025
Toya
15 maja 2025
sam53
15 maja 2025
Bezka
15 maja 2025
wiesiek
15 maja 2025
violetta
14 maja 2025
Toya
14 maja 2025
Bezka
14 maja 2025
Misiek
13 maja 2025
marka