"This melancholy London - I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air. - W. B. Yeats

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Hats Off to Hank

if i could handle life like bukowski

i'd be okay

cause he wasn't happy

but he just drank and fucked and typed that away

and made it mean something

but i can't do that--

not the drinking

or the fucking

or the typing

I can do all three.


but i can't find the recipe of all three that makes it all seem a little easier

or at least i can't seem to do it without throwing up.

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