26

Bukowski told me to
He said to keep pushing
Not to look back
And tell it like it is
His words were dirty, like his mind
My mind follows
His sincerity is truth
My sincerity call me lies
So I’ll just read a few more lines quietly
His life spewed out
My piece
Paper confessions to an imaginary priest
How do I repent
Constant smoke, a cool haze
And the taste of energy
I write to get it out