Takeaway girl- poem
I want a takeaway girl,
to put in my pocket and go Continue Reading
It ain’t whatcha write, It’s the way atcha write it.” – Jack Kerouac
I want a takeaway girl,
to put in my pocket and go Continue Reading →
Offense is your name,
and you feed on my flaws Continue Reading →
Ceremoniously upset, Mitch pulled out the phone vibrating in his pocket. Continue Reading →
Don’t make a fuss,
Life goes by and we die,
Why the drama?
Continue Reading →
“Come on! Not again this shit!” Such a cliché, but so true: It was Monday at 8:45 am and again I was having trouble waking up. Continue Reading →
A story for children who still haven’t learned to take care of the environment. Continue Reading →
It was February second in Poznan. The momentary snow had melted away and the winter seemed to be set on being mild that year. Continue Reading →
“Let me know if you need something and I’ll go and help you”, Continue Reading →
My belle is made up of art, that is, failures, shitty life’s growth… Continue Reading →
„Facebook to nie Tinder!”, Odpisała mi, przejmując się drobiazgiem. Ponieważ w kosmicznym pociągu wydarzeń, które doprowadziły mnie do kontaktu z nią, kwestia czy Facebook ma funkcję przesunięcia w prawo i w lewo była zupełnie nieistotna. Continue Reading →