is this -feeling- or is this just love
that old hormone that fits
humanity like a glove

is this my soul or is this a balloon
both are reaching for the sky
but are stuck in this room

I don't know why a balloon would be in my chest
or if even a soul resides in my breast
but both I'd prefer to divest

Soaring above the field
the pidgeon saw the world revealed
but by its own flight it was betrayed
for that pidgeon was made of clay

Floating like a summer's cloud
my love for her was high and proud
yet my heart was chipped one day
for my heart was made of clay

Beauty can't always be entrusted
to the potters hand
so build your beauty from something
that can withstand
more than the lovers arrow
at least
til the morrow

******* powdering our guns
white powder powdering our gums

this is the new world

when you wish upon a star
do you ever think it's just too far
looking out the windows washing dishes
wondering if that star's run out of wishes

do satellites grant wishes too
what happens when you wish on something flashing blue
what if it supernova'd 10,000 years ago
and this light is just its afterglow

what what what's so special about these stars
in this milky way of ours
yet in this light we keep on coping
and with their light we keep on hoping

a ghost roams this house
it's yours
and its one of the many things you left behind
when you left behind nothing

-not even a toothbrush
just your teeth biting deep

not even a perfume bottle
but an aura
like how a dead flower sitting in its vase still leak lilies
and how a dead body laying in its casket still bleeds love

but if i know one thing
it's knowing nothings are something
like how even though you took my heart running
I don't need it to keep my blood pumping

if you couldn't infer who is 'her'

she is all the hers i've known
from all the we's that I have blown
where some and none and one are One
and more will come til life's been run

that's a guess but it sounded definite
its also a guess that the possibilities are infinite
it's a guess she'll remain as a sessioned imression
I know I still haven't answered your question

is this poetry or is this love
is this business really something
to discuss in the tub

is this drowning or is this drinking
or are these overwhelming feelings
products of too much thinking

is this sleeping or is this blinking
because i don't know how much further
life can keep shrinking

poetry is sleep, death and rest
and while these have not truly been addressed
I guess poetry is also life's digress