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“you’ve got to burn
straight up and down
and then maybe sideways
for a while
and have your guts
... scrambled by a
bully
and the demonic
ladies,
you’ve got to run
along the edge of
madness,
teetering,
you’ve got to drink a
river of booze,
you’ve got to starve
like a winter
alleycat,
you’ve got to live
with the imbecility
of at least a dozen
cities,
then maybe
maybe
maybe
you might know
where you are
for a tiny
blinking
moment.”
— Charles Bukowski