this is just a test

This is just a test, a
comical round

of betting,
to sweat through another

love. Unable to see the words,
align

from my tongue, stretching out
into the jaded air,
below

the skies, our lies and dew.

Not lies with words but eyes
with swords piercing

itchy souls. This is just a test.

With hope in my pocket,
plans in my

head. Dreams in my eyes and
strong hands. This
is just a test.

Calling hearts, spades and tossing
my chips in,

I do not blink, or move when bluffing.

This is just a test. This should have
happened before
...between kisses...

I am three years
to late she said...between
touches...

Than she called
her ex-boyfriend...this...

is...just...a...test...

the will to

the will to live under the sun,
so hot, burning

life to live.

burning holes into my eyes,
yet I am still
drawn to

its pleasure, its pain.
the will to

sit in front of talking solders
of selfishness
spreading, fighting

for themselves. and

not fighting back. the
will to

drink, instead of love.

the will to blink. and instead
of keeping my eyes

closed forever-opening them
and seeing
the life

worth living. the will to
shed skins were scared,

and laugh the dead skin
all the way

to the broken path behind

moving feet. the
will to cause fear in life with my

eyes; instead of having
fear
in them.

the will to die under the moon-
smiling as i rot.

I imagine things aging,
rotting where they

have been placed.

Sinking low below the life they
once had,

growing dots of un-use.

Taken over by dust and rust-
feelings unsubstantial.

What has been given
in life,

will be taken in the untouched
abortive-ness of worthlessness,

after they are done
with me.

summer snow

in secret sounds the summer snow carried slowly by a breese,

danced calmly to the secret sounds, and found their way with ease.

unburdened by the time we keep, and details of our sin,

the summer snow will catch their fate, and keep the peace within.

sharing only what is ment to share, a plan to be decided.

the seeds of life, called summer snow, think not of what's provided.

instead they cure a precious place, when time indeed sees fit,

and birth a tree, with breath of life, a circle fast, intransit.

I called it in the air

I called it in the air, but
it was just

a guess. There's no way

of really knowing. Who you
would be-and who
I would turn

into, you into me and the
same as usual.

At the cost of living, and
the simple actions

of our, post-literate-pre-
sympathetic-to-antiquated-symbols-of-
thought, mouths.

And the nouns they spit.

Or you just say whatever
you want. Because

your cute, and you've seen
Cold Play when they
and you

were in Paris.

And who am I
to judge
you.

I probable do wear my David Bowie
t-shirt to much. But

that doesn't mean we'll
still be friends.

What is free love?

Lentl soup pt.2

The time moved slow,
the coffee fast and
there were

no shoes to tie. No
time to be stalled

by excuse. My mind left
moments unchecked, against it
all.

Then I found your eyes again,

and tried once more-
with tales of rice
and roe. Of stories denied

by common senses more
in tuned to social consequence.

A story of life's journey,

because what difference
does
it make.

And smiles found smiles; a difference
forgotten-we walked

to the park and played
til dawn.