Counselor
Counselor
Who can find me,
Beating on the door,
I am in the corners,
When your machines have grown quiet
When your careless love abandons
When you don’t want the truth
You do not deserve me
You frightened misanthrope
Come anyway animal of Darwin,
Killer of babies and lover of lucre
You could not nail me to degradation,
I am, who I say I AM,
You are not
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Life with the Pill | 3 | 07/16/2009 |
| Counselor | 0 | 07/03/2009 |
| A-G-A-P-E | 2 | 07/03/2009 |
| Time Bomb | 0 | 02/02/2009 |
| Nothing is ever lost | 1 | 02/01/2009 |
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