26 marca 2021
Interposted
Escaping the unknown
becomes easier
when you listen
to the echos of dark.
My god says, the peeled
oranges will feed the
starved moon, when you
invite the rains.
Invisible hills will send
the bronze poems to you,
once the black night starts
drinking the green water.
The nightmare looms large―
climbs up my chest to
lick the isles, throwing me in
parenthesis, failing the commas.
19 marca 2026
sam53
19 marca 2026
wiesiek
18 marca 2026
wiesiek
18 marca 2026
violetta
17 marca 2026
wiesiek
17 marca 2026
sam53
16 marca 2026
Jaga
16 marca 2026
wiesiek
16 marca 2026
Jaga
15 marca 2026
wiesiek