days without charm, hope or meaning

damned by the evening sun;
startled, again, that people continue to speak
without saying anything.   I’m
crapped on by the finch,
revered by idiots.

this isn’t any good.
this isn’t working.
the bartender is dead.
the bar is closed.
the last time I laughed was 60 years ago in St. Louis.

pitiful, what?
well, piss on you.
piss on you 9 times.
there, I feel better.

I know what I need.
I need to drink two bottles of wine and
twelve bottles of beer.

see you later.

Charles Bukowski
Original manuscript