24 września 2020
On Sick Bed
There were involuntary
pauses.
When you stretch at the sheets.
Those were scorching
questions, about my identity.
I tell, I don't have any name.
The body was partitioned.
My head belongs
to psalms, which I don't understand.
My torso to the lost
ship which went down
without a torpedo.
My legs were my own
taking me, to places, where
I did not want to go.
14 marca 2025
violetta
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wiesiek
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absynt
14 marca 2025
absynt
14 marca 2025
absynt
14 marca 2025
jeśli tylko
14 marca 2025
ajw
14 marca 2025
ajw
14 marca 2025
absynt
14 marca 2025
Marek Jastrząb