The next line is the worst garbage He snorts this Curse nursing it for the worse as Synapses across lobes stretch for one Another crackling in the charge Of words; bursting thoughts Powder trail across dots As shot through two barrels He's being held Over one bound by metal heaving Retching Wretched bromide He snorts… Continue reading Bukowski, or: Runoff
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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