10 maja 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.
24 lutego 2025
Bezka
24 lutego 2025
wiesiek
24 lutego 2025
wolnyduch
24 lutego 2025
wolnyduch
24 lutego 2025
absynt
24 lutego 2025
absynt
24 lutego 2025
sam53
24 lutego 2025
ajw
24 lutego 2025
ajw
24 lutego 2025
ajw