Counselors

Edited an older poem, but I wanted to keep both copies.

There isn't enough beer to drown it, not enough pills to poison it
you call it by many names: self-loathing, accidental overdose
return of facts in a rapid chatter, miscue mistake wrong step
bad break
fatal defect between thought and action

You can pretend it’s not there, its ok, it doesn't mind
its willing to wait in the background

where it blends with stone and shadow
its willing to hunch in abandoned alleys,

looking over well-picked leavings
its willing to hide in hitch of lung, in stumble of step
its willing to lie, whisper and cheat
because eventually everyone gives in,
in the end everyone gives over

and finally it feeds