I cannot have one thing messy
and another quite neat
yet what i pine for, and truly do
is
the power of both
the class and the crass
the good and the evil
the smallest daffodil
and the tallest grass
grinding asses
a poetic bed under wrapped legs, clenched toes
but separate hearts
contained in one person,
myself
the power of both
not yes, not no
not black nor white
the gray
the purest gray
the purest blend
the whole spectrum
but nothing definite
nothing too stark
as to behave linearly
gradient, yes
a shade
no routine, yes routine
sober evenings and drunken mornings
what am I saying?
I cannot have both
love meshed with hate
hate meshed with love
love and hate
the only two things
one can hold
with that divine
property of concurrency
only if it is true,
that is both
both is real, both is possible