November 11th, 2008

Charles Bukowski is angry. Charles Bukowski is disgusted in the unfairness of it all, the way Charles Bukowski can never get it just the way its supposed to be on the page. Charles Bukowski loves his wine, loves the incubation of smoke in Charles Bukowski's lungs from a stale cigar. Charles Bukowski hates the way he always falls in love with the wrong slut. In a moment of absent-mindedness Charles Bukowski gives a homeless man two dollars more than Charles Bukowski meant to. Charles Bukowski now has four dollars.