Thursday, February 12, 2015

Delete



I spent the entire morning writing and deleting, first about last night's nightmare, then about my meals, then, about my nightmare again.  Then I wrote about the girl in the picture and then some bitter bile about helping people.  I am a genius.  I deleted it all.  What to do?  I'll leave today's writing to another asshole. 



What's the Use of a Title?

They don’t make it  
the beautiful die in flame-  
sucide pills,rat poison,rope what-  
ever...  
they rip their arms off,  
throw themselves out of windows,  
they pull their eyes out of the sockets,  
reject love  
reject hate  
reject,reject.  

they don’t make it  
the beautiful can't endure,  
they are butterflies  
they are doves  
they are sparrows,  
they dont make it.  

one tall shot of flame  
while the old men play checkers in the park  
one flame, one good flame  
while the old men play checkers in the park  
in the sun.  

the beautiful are found in the edge of a room  
crumpled into spiders and needles and silence  
and we can never understand why they  
left, they were so  
beautiful.  

they don’t make it,  
the beautiful die young  
and leave the ugly to their ugly lives.  


lovely and brilliant: life and suicide and death  
as the old men play checkers in the sun  
in the park.

(Charles Bukowski)

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