I'm on a Bukowskiesque roll;
pounding them out,
seven or eight a night.
I know it won't last.
It's like a fast.
It's the hunger that
drives you.
And when you're starving,
you eat--then rest,
not today though, I've hit
my stride.
And the night is mine for
the taking.
And the words are mine for
the ******.
And my heart I am staking
on the fact
that
I will stay hungry.