25 august 2019
The Dumps
The words had started to fail me.
There was always an ‘if'―
before every war of hunger.
The candlewick has burned
out. I am collecting the―
wax from the eyes.
Wrapped agony, now lifts
the dead bird from the
rose bushes.
The frosted god
will melt to bare a
black stone.
I am not luck
I am not the future.
You know where this path leads into?
7 march 2021
Satish Verma
6 march 2021
wiesiek
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kalik
5 march 2021
wiesiek
5 march 2021
Paweł Szkołut
5 march 2021
jeśli tylko
5 march 2021
RENATA
5 march 2021
RENATA
5 march 2021
Satish Verma
4 march 2021
wiesiek