19 marca 2015
I DO NOT DIE
Manipulating grief, dirty hands -
open the lid,
release imagos. Eyes are blank.
You unravel the last of roses.
Surface tension wavers. An imbecile
sky pours the eyes, nose and ears.
Courtyard fills again, morphed resurrection.
I am persona non grata
in my own home. The moon does not cry.
Mystical lights. Headstones not legible.
Lockjaw. Waiting for morning-glory.
Stars are blinking.
Still I am stupid, courting my failures.
Cushion of thorns, I am weary of heavens.
Me, this earth, I do not die.
17 marca 2025
Eva T.
17 marca 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
17 marca 2025
wiesiek
17 marca 2025
absynt
17 marca 2025
absynt
17 marca 2025
absynt
17 marca 2025
eyesOFsoul
17 marca 2025
absynt
17 marca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
17 marca 2025
ajw