ever for.

a table of friends.
not playwrights, writers, poets,
neither artists nor artistes.
spill the whiskey
and spill your heart out.honesty
is essential.(like gunpowder to guns.)
just shoot...we are blood.
beyond veins or arteries or
tissue
or
skin.we are hardly poetic,hardly
velvet!
caustic conversations
carry (forward) carelessly.
but still we last.through this night.through the seasons of
treason.through years and years of forever.

smoke rings

" tell me where do they go
these smoke rings I blow each night.
what do they do, these circles of blue and white.
why do they seem to picture a dream of love?
why do they fade my phantom parade of love? "
  
  - The Mills Brothers, " Smoke Rings".

there is an end.

im a terrible lover
a bad romantic
im hopeless at love makin
horrible at chivalry
im a terrible optimist
( the anti-optimist even.)
useless at making someone mine
and even worse at keeping someone mine.
im giving up.


" spring brings the rain.with winter comes pain.
every season has an end." - the Greenhornes.