Satunnainen teksti

Bony hand

Cold,
bony.

Pierces your skin,
gets inside of you.

Five narrow,
pulls your soul.


Eventually it comes loose.


17/4/2012

Note!

Majority of the poems from 2017 to earlier haven't been translated yet,
so they'll currently appear in Finnish. This is an ongoing process,
since there's a lot of 'em. (Please do enjoy the newer ones tho.)

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