Something is wrong with me…

johncoyote

Something is wrong with me….

Something is wrong with me. I am like a Bukowski poem gone wrong. Bukowski told us, do what you love, even if you must be alone, you must go hungry, be homeless and know hard days. Go all the way or just become a mountain that don’t move.

I have become the mountain now, never moving, accepting life as-is. Once I wanted to save my world, write the great novel and live near the sea. I befallen and I can’t find my real face. I feel I am becoming more stone and rock the human skin.

Once I drank to feel alive, once I sought war to know I was alive. Love was never my strength, patience is my enemy and kindness is forgotten. Bukowski would tell me. “You did a fool’s dance for the rich men. Skinned off your real face and be-face with…

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