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UNTITLED

Purple-blue nail polish
and very dark bleach,

orangey-yellow sneaker
to go with some cracker.
Black tee shirt,
black pants,
black sweats,
and a very pale heart.
By half the day,
more is stolen away.
In twisted irony,
I sit back and enjoy,
the sickly-orange sun
sinking in such awkward turn,
down a horizon
I think I can reach out and touch,
to feel the slippery leaves:
the dew on them,
the very weak stem,
the hills skipping,
balancing the sun inbetween her laps.
And feel the sun, hot, but not burning.
Cool in the kind of way
that's hard to tell or perhaps,
it's just the day
that's not right
and all I wish for is one so bright,
I have to shield my eyes
to look at my nails.
g.o.
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need balance

there's some beauty in darkness:
something interesting about
the way the air would heavily light
an irony of perfect juxtaposition. there's some beauty in ugly:
something intriguing about the
huge grotesque scars that
seem to never want to go away. there's some beauty in evil:
un peu de la purité in
the heart of a condemned man,
an innocence buried beneath a blanket of
bottled up emotions. these little beauties we
choose to neglect
aren't they the very things that
make living bearable? who would be good without the existence
of evil?
who would be beautiful without ugliness?
or what story could ever be told without scars? need beauty and ugliness,
need scars and healing oils,
need good and evil,
need all the balance to remain
steady and sane in this
crazy crazy world. need balance:
then imbalance to
balance the human equation
now and again.