Collected Poems of John Holmes
Holmes, John A., Jr.
"Insanity for sure before he's thirty-five,"
The psych instructor whispered once of you.
Watching the small weak mouth, the bulging brow,
The wild, deep, suffering eyes, I know it's true.
What a worse fate you'll be delivered from
At last in a weary downhill dozen years:
Egotism run amuck and slaying you
With a million wild hopeless wants and fears;
The limelight, the praise, love that you so need.,
That you demand and crave, slipping away;;
The admiration you do not deserve
Going no power in you to make it stay;
The hells of finding what you really are,
Weak helpless erratic all these will go;
All the poor pretence your pity of yourself
Changed to blank utter peace, It's better so.