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pick a number,
one, three, seven:
only the odds,
so we both are even.

close your eyes,
don't be shy,
it's just the both
of us here
with our crazy minds
as audience;
only our crazy minds
as audience.

i said that twice already?
baby keep up.
we're duplicating thoughts
now in your mind,
tick off all those numbers,
sway your mind

what we'd be without all the figures,
fighting our fights.
all the figures,
keeping track of time.
all the figures,
ageing our flesh.
all the figures,
eating our minds.

can we just be
without them?
love "pas blem".
that's French
for "no problem".
or "no",
we will do without.

pick a number,
two, four, eight
replace them,
all of them
with the image of me.

let me be all the numbers
you need
and you,
my pretty little thing,
all the numbers to infinity
for me.


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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.