So I entered in Bukowski's "I'm In Love" in little bits, indicated by the spaces between stanzas here:
she's young, she said,
but look at me,
I have pretty ankles,
and look at my wrists, I have pretty
wrists
o my god,
I thought it was all working,
and now it's her again,
every time she phones you go crazy,
you told me it was over
you told me it was finished,
listen, I've lived long enough to become a
good woman,
why do you need a bad woman?
you need to be tortured, don't you?
you think life is rotten if somebody treats you
rotten it all fits,
doesn't it?
tell me, is that it? do you want to be treated like a
piece of shit?
and my son, my son was going to meet you.
I told my son
and I dropped all my lovers.
I stood up in a cafe and screamed
I'M IN LOVE,
and now you've made a fool of me. . .
I'm sorry, I said, I'm really sorry.
hold me, she said, will you please hold me?
I've never been in one of these things before, I said,
these triangles. . .
she got up and lit a cigarette, she was trembling all
over.she paced up and down,wild and crazy.
she had
a small body.her arms were thin,very thin and when
she screamed and started beating me I held her
wrists and then I got it through the eyes:hatred,
centuries deep and true.
I was wrong and graceless and
sick. all the things I had learned had been wasted.
there was no creature living as foul as I
and all my poems were
false.
---
I have her wrist, the ankle is quite his age, my wrist will be displayed in the very young
Library, she is my God every time, in the opinion of your data are completely absorbed in her phone to avoid it
If my life is, this morning, the poor women for women, I'm good, I asked him why. What Is Torture? Why have icons and processes to support a lot of confusion all my life?
Please please. Please tell me please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please. They are from me, because I choose to handle any job you lose your mind? My son, my son decided to meet. I think my son is my ex-girlfriend.
I was crying ... I was a fool out of here, a cafe, I love the mask Mengo. Hold me, she continued to please me. Notice?
In front of me ... her wild, they are in the hands of her circle of madness, the speed of light, over. she these triangles are non-smoking.
She was with me through my eyes, she was very: hatred, centuries deep, thin body. her violence, small arms, Teita a roar, but now his right wrist to hold was necessary to hold the data.
Wrongdoing, my illness is wrong. I learned that it is useless. My poems animals, smell is disguised as people's lives.
shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit