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

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