10 april 2019
Civil Resistance
Being me
like a butterfly I cannot
fold the wings.
Why do we need to
burn the orchard grass
for an interim exit.
My bête noire was me.
I would not separate the
statecraft from worship.
Snubbing the trees,
I want to climb tall to know, why
were we using sarin and mustard.
On the road to avatars,
I won’t believe, that a released
soul should come back.
Robotic, someone was
searching a lost forest.
18 september 2025
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17 september 2025
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16 september 2025
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16 september 2025
absynt
16 september 2025
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15 september 2025
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14 september 2025
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13 september 2025
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12 september 2025
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9 september 2025
absynt