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