We turn green with envy, red with anger, black with hate and blue with sadness.
But what about greed?
It\'s always there, cowardly hiding,
but always at the ready, an automatic mechanism of consumption.
Like and irritable itch, unreachable and ever growing,
so that finally we buckle down and it\'s power comes to light.
A bloddy orange would be its color, like fire,
consuming everything in its path, stopping at nothing to grow ever larger and powerful.
Ljóð eftir Stefán(i)
This black day
Contemplating the sun
Of cigarettes and life
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