WELL, THAT'S JUST THE WAY IT IS...
Charles Bukowski

Sometimes when everything seems at
Its worst
When all conspires
And gnawls
And the hours, days, weeks
Years
Seem wasted
Stretch there upon my bed
In the dark
Looking up at the ceiling
I get what many will consider an
Obnoxious thought:
Its still nice to be Bukowski.

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