16 kwietnia 2015
FABRIC
Throwing the prosthesis, he jumped for
numericals, refusing to expand,
walk with father of sorrow
the revolutionary.
He wanted to talk as an equal
in interpretation of truth about death
and God, the new incumbent
of faith.
An aptness to spill the blood on
your face, of some recent slaughter,
as a witness of dying for peace,
as soothing law of nature.
He wears the fabric of inspiration:
the city and streets are empty
weaving the welts of pain,
for nothing.
9 lutego 2026
Amon
8 lutego 2026
wiesiek
8 lutego 2026
sam53
8 lutego 2026
sam53
7 lutego 2026
sam53
7 lutego 2026
wiesiek
7 lutego 2026
violetta
7 lutego 2026
Toya
7 lutego 2026
Yaro
7 lutego 2026
sam53