I have the autumn
Maybe I don't want more.
I have the autumn. It's enough for me the change.
Only when something changes I begin to remember.
And the need to pretend
that is awesome to know things to come?
I stopped feel it.
Quick thoughts on city street.
All the world's cities are mine.
They feed me agony and prayers
night and supplications. My own cities.
No longer have to prove them something.
I keep my mind permanently in hell.
Up to heart submerged in its fire.
And when poetry strips and loses words
bitter as blood, lighter than the leaves
mortal like their slaves,
even if I don't understand it
heaven hears and sends colors.
And thus I have something totally mine. The autumn...
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