24 marca 2020
Wafer-Thin
Wearing a straitjacket
you come out in open.
This was a black day.
You were not invited.
The economy smells of stale fever.
A pungent smoke rises
from the joints.
A decision drifts. Scare of
paper bomb stills―
the flow of tea.
There was a party.
People come and go. Skullcaps
galore. White on brown sugar.
There is no love lost between us.
21 sierpnia 2025
Yaro
20 sierpnia 2025
jesienna70
20 sierpnia 2025
smokjerzy
20 sierpnia 2025
Bezka
19 sierpnia 2025
absynt
19 sierpnia 2025
sam53
19 sierpnia 2025
Yaro
19 sierpnia 2025
sam53
19 sierpnia 2025
ais
18 sierpnia 2025
sam53