20 march 2014
It is What it Is Child
The solar eclipse is coming, young one
Write your story in a dirty little book
Tuck it away before the eye sees you
From the crescent halo of a forgotten night
Glimpse yourself to make yourself
And turn you into yourself
A bought off commodity for you to look at
That fractures in a cold night: candle light dance
Wax dripping, easing slowly to the table top
Cream fixated melancholy oozing across the floor
And the eyes that see you bring it into form
So you may be burned some more
Lonesome prodegy, all holy father
Command the graces of tormented souls
26 april 2024
The EntitySatish Verma
25 april 2024
2504wiesiek
25 april 2024
QuartzSatish Verma
24 april 2024
The End StartsSatish Verma
23 april 2024
Three poemsAdam Pietras (Barry Kant)
22 april 2024
Echoes TravelSatish Verma
21 april 2024
od wewnątrzsam53
21 april 2024
2104wiesiek
21 april 2024
Picking RelicsSatish Verma
20 april 2024
To Dying MuseSatish Verma