26 listopada 2014
POINSETTIA
What was that inside you
which was not ready to accept
the compound folly of a man?
What worry do I carry tonight
to my bed?
An intentional leap into the very
fire of mind?
A virgin garden battles with a storm
It is ready to mince the words
for a carnal smell of poinsettia,
and I am going to lower the guard
from wrinkled eyes.
Like a thong around the neck
to obtain the tongue.
I turn towards the blood of game
global erosion of love and waxen defeat!
Satish Verma
14 marca 2026
dobrosław77
13 marca 2026
wiesiek
13 marca 2026
sam53
12 marca 2026
wiesiek
12 marca 2026
Weronika
12 marca 2026
sam53
11 marca 2026
Jaga
11 marca 2026
Jaga
11 marca 2026
wiesiek
11 marca 2026
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