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"Poetry is the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." Leonard Cohen

Friday, November 7, 2014


They say I'm being silly, ridiculous even, that they've moved on
They say I need to talk to someone before I go 'round the bend
They say - learn to compartmentalize - that's what they do
They say, they take their hurt and who they miss, and all the rest
and just put it in a box, like Tupperware, and go on with life
They say after awhile, it becomes a habit, they don't hardly
think of it at all, and I won't either if I just learn the ropes

Finally I found somebody to pour my heart out to...figured maybe
that would be the answer...maybe if I could just get someone
Who was expert in such things - who knew, maybe I could fix it
But that's not how it worked, it didn't matter about my compulsion
The lady said lots of people these days were estranged from
their kids, even their adult kids
I was flabbergasted - even for no reason, I asked her
Especially that, she assured, especially for no reason

She told me I would end up in the loony bin or worse if I kept
insisting on how I felt as being compelled
I almost told her how I felt about her - that she was a lousy-ass
therapist...I did feel compelled damnit
Every minute of every day -- and most of every night; I wasn't
sleeping well
It was all I could do to keep from driving to their house and
screaming down the door just to see them
I didn't even care if they called the men in the white coats or
the cops or anybody
She couldn't tell me that wasn't a compulsion, she just couldn't

And the others can't tell me how to compartmentalize
those feelings either
 I know something bad's going to happen, and I don't know
how to tell anybody or what to do
But I can tell you this, it has lots to do with compulsion,
yes, yes it does.

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