I overworked my fish and his eskimo a while ago. It got so bad, I had to put them both down. Don't let it happen to you.

I love the "crisply laid stool" part. They don't make toys like they used to!

brava! la terra che percorriamo non siamo solidi esso esitiamo come la memoria

Congratulations! It's not often one encounters such a generous expendature of voracity in poetry nowadays. The introspective rythm is simply sublime. Keep up the good work!!!

Congratulations. From the appalling title to the laughable use of "purring" to rhyme with "stirring", this has to be one of the worst poemes I have ever read.

I hope to Christ that my death doesn't inspire something as ham-handedly inept as this massive lump of flatulence. Poetry is not just about writing down some emotions and randomly interspersing them with pointless line breaks. You must remember to pause every now and again to stare wistfully out of an open window. -9-

How dare you soil my name with this filth!

Sex is naughty. Do not mention it again.

Deine muttie hat eine saftsack.

Very nice. I liked the simpler sections "My id and I..." contrasted with the more explanatory stanzas, and how the id induced desires lacked punctuation. You could turn this in for a Psychology 101 assignment.

Welcher bist du? Reisender? Arbeiter? Denker? Schöpfer, oder alles? Selbstportrait?

You are exceedingly pretentious. Good day, Sir.