I drained my last
sip of Jack
my trusted friend
and gave up on humanity
finding strength
in the desert
writing lines
left handed
I broke the right
on hopes face
the streets
and casinos
are filled
with ordinary
and broken men
that have never
read Bukowski
or have even
heard of him
red streams of
disgust
poured from
lovers lips
unclever lines
for unclever minds
I'll remind them
of what they missed
in a desert sunrise
land scared and
bleeding
blue blood through
vacant hearts
our memories misleading
don't forget
your mother's hands
that dried your tears
lovingly, with no regret
the best lines are
haunted
I just haven't found
them yet
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