6 september 2021
Unbendingly
You went tounveil your own
statue, before being shot―
dead, for telling the fiction.
Day was stranger than
night. You can discern
the oblique faces.
Handcuffed, you pick up
the pen, to rewrite the name
of omniabsent divine.
Trivial rise of surface
temperature will melt
the snow-clad breasts.
A clove-scented pink―
in the hands of a butcher
does not bring a smile.
17 september 2025
wiesiek
16 september 2025
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16 september 2025
absynt
16 september 2025
absynt
15 september 2025
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14 september 2025
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13 september 2025
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12 september 2025
wiesiek
9 september 2025
absynt
9 september 2025
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