My golden leaves

That leaves are not seen by anyone but me. That leaves are my golden leaves.

Poem 1

The jazz darkness of the mind,

fiction of our brains, spreads to reality.

“Me” is the only word I know; Yes, the unique possibility to be.

Looking for a woman that never comes back: the tears of my face in front of a porn site. 

Nothing is the only word I know; no, the unique possibility to be.

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