3 lipca 2018
Scraping The Dimness
Like a prune, it was
an old year, standing
before me. You start
counting the wrinkles.
In shift, you become
the problem, cannot read
the jigsaw. It had
uprooted the faith.
I was terribley upset, the
birds had not returned
to the lake this winter; what
do I do, I was talking to moon.
A new misty morning. I take a
small foot, set myself in the
god's hour and start
planting the bulbs of tulips.
17 marca 2025
eyesOFsoul
17 marca 2025
absynt
17 marca 2025
Belamonte/Senograsta
17 marca 2025
ajw
17 marca 2025
ajw
17 marca 2025
ajw
17 marca 2025
ajw
16 marca 2025
Yaro
16 marca 2025
sam53
16 marca 2025
sam53