Charles Bukowski Broken Bottle Poem by James McLain

Is a pillow a disciplinary form of some metaphor?
Any way I'm the one who's quite dead now
so please shut up.
I have two to hide my head under?
Mumbling in her nasty girl some come calling sleep.
It was not long, after that, it became even longer.
Rolling over the moon and I found the arrow.
It rattled yet but still I found it broke.
And I hummed a song, from first to end,
I found it for the second time in the center of the friend.