22 września 2016
Anarchy
Wind prowled.
You had a hornet’s sting
buried half in your hand.
Anaphylactic shock.
Translates into night of terror.
You hesitate to smile.
Midnight blues.
You cannot count the stars.
Pesky. Stories spread about moon’s pink thighs.
An ode to the death’s kiss.
You were sleeping in the
sole embrace of pain.
The denizen breaks the rule.
Moves into the sea
for courtship with depth.
14 marca 2026
wiesiek
14 marca 2026
Jaga
14 marca 2026
violetta
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