Seeing Orange
Orange yells out at me. Orange became. Was it scarlet or the boldness of chili pepper fusing madly with soft cornsilk? Or did they take turns With her silky strands? Orange is at times almost asleep, a syrupy copper tainted with cinnamon. Orange can wake and scream. Deep down orange is dangerous, its harsh edges sharp; its motion chaotic as it reaches out to me and screams a cruel twisted bloodthirsty howl. Orange. A Judas to my retina; a Hitler to my mind. Passion...
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