1 września 2017
False Boundaries
I again went for the goldfish.
One day I took you, in the
night sky, rubbing on the
sea, under an ebony moon.
The roasted munching in
fabricated letters for
the orgiastic drill.
Why one always becomes
sadistic in self- torture,
the drifting among tombs-
of broken words, in our
maligned ink? The clear
path suddenly becomes invisible.
I again hear the sobbing of
a trembling ghost of past.
6 marca 2025
sam53
6 marca 2025
Eva T.
6 marca 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
6 marca 2025
wiesiek
6 marca 2025
Bezka
6 marca 2025
Yaro
6 marca 2025
Yaro
6 marca 2025
ajw
6 marca 2025
ajw
6 marca 2025
sam53