"Why can't the scientist and poet be the same person?", challenged he.
I mused in between consciousness, "We are all human beings in exploding fatalities."

That night you were golden, sprawling right opposite 'AHEAD', tar and nicotine indistinguishable. That's right. They never mattered in the first place. Sometimes I'd wonder where the gray is. Can there ever be an overdose?

"What is harmony?"
"Find someone who can complete your sentence."*

I still shun psychology even if I do see humans in their separate iridescence; who is to say that Black and Red are fundamentals? I guess what I am trying to say is that I am the gray that you are unable to blend in no matter how much white you wear on your sleeve or the limitless amount of black you struggle to gargoyle into being.

///Your fantasies are caged in the little pleasurable bubbles we both conjured.



//and I never once denied.