Dec 2022
i am writing
about the end of
summer
terrible things that
keep me awake
extreme humour
and cheap whiskey
warm blanket on
a lonely tuesday
poems by Charles
Bukowski
i am writing
about the end of
my youth
there is not
much to write
most of us are
not important
the world is a
small place
filled with
sad people in
tiny rooms
and they are
so unhappy
that they do not
care if it all ends
today.
