27 sierpnia 2019
Before The Sunset
I am trying to do my bit,
nonpareil. A soundproof doer,
erasing the palm from the painting―
drinking the nitrogen from the air
starving myself.
Cannot bequeath my eyes,
my thumb vision. You were always
asking about my sadness, emptiness.
I will not tell about
the acid times.
That killing instinct was not
there. I will give you the
unborn poems, that would not wear
the death mask, my unspoken
thoughts, peeling after the darkness and
I will let you go to find your path.
22 lutego 2026
jeśli tylko
22 lutego 2026
jesienna70
22 lutego 2026
sam53
22 lutego 2026
sam53
21 lutego 2026
wiesiek
21 lutego 2026
wiesiek
21 lutego 2026
Yaro
21 lutego 2026
ais
21 lutego 2026
Yaro
21 lutego 2026
dobrosław77