20 sierpnia 2015
A Touch Of Class
The tree, the sky, the moon, of
summer prick the eyes.
We suffer majestically.
The aberrations will
now rule the city.
Incorruptible winds
languished in crooked lanes.
A pale hand will paint the unlatched doors.
When stars meditate in unison,
moon upcurves.
The blue becomes dark,
my eyes climb the hill.
The day has ended without a conclusion.
Clouds are frightened.
Virtue when cuts open the heart,
it does not bleed.
Pseudo reality reigns,
and we amputate the limbs without analgesics.
The philosophy of being
is quietly murdered.
Green leaves start dying.
A terrible dream flicks the hope,
a touch of class with littleness.
16 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
16 grudnia 2025
sam53
15 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
15 grudnia 2025
Jaga
14 grudnia 2025
sam53
14 grudnia 2025
wiesiek
14 grudnia 2025
violetta
14 grudnia 2025
jeśli tylko
13 grudnia 2025
sam53
13 grudnia 2025
Yaro