Les plus lus ▸Dave BontaOut of shapealone with my pleasant rot I will not be fit like talk from upstairs the rough music of the heartLire le poèmeApprendre par cœur
TristeDave BontaDiaristA rank morning. I batten on ash—my wife— and rot—my diary, break down the day.
TristeDave BontaRefreshO the rot where we invite use and ease. We part after music in a one-night bed.
ContemplatifDave BontaCarpe diemAll things call and all fall and rot. Excuse my not waiting as others do to be.