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Decline

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Written by Charles Bukowski

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 naked along the side of the house,
8 a.
m.
, spreading sesame seed oil over my body, Jesus, have I come to this? I once battled in dark alleys for a laugh.
now I'm not laughing.
I splash myself with oil and wonder, how many years do you want? how many days? my blood is soiled and a dark angel sits in my brain.
things are made of something and go to nothing.
I understand the fall of cities, of nations.
a small plane passes overhead.
I look upward as if it made sense to look upward.
it's true, the sky has rotted: it won't be long for any of us.
from The Olympia Review - 1994


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