1 grudnia 2019
No Carnage
A house without doors
I was living
in fog.
The infamous review
will tell about the
fallen words from the roof.
There was no history,
no culture of
cannibalism.
I only exhaled
the grief of centuries
shielding the ankle's pain.
There had been no
perfect picture of the
dancing god in nude.
A blue face swims.
I draw the map of the smell
of cinders.
31 marca 2026
wiesiek
31 marca 2026
sam53
31 marca 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
30 marca 2026
wiesiek
30 marca 2026
absynt
30 marca 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
30 marca 2026
Sorrowhead (ex Cheval)
29 marca 2026
wiesiek
29 marca 2026
absynt
29 marca 2026
absynt