Charles Bukowski Reincarnated

To come and go and not be afraid of the light. Again I'm a child and my secrets I have chosen can you love me? Death will come this I know slowly I grow you remember. The bottles were colored when first I arrived. Hairy eyes hiding tremors pass. I agonize once again arsenic moons. A man makes his bed yet a child and his maid. Starched white shirts in the closet I hide from the church. Mary wept but the nuns make me weep even more. Loneliness is a face never seen. I drink it all as a child what they allow. Buds and bells heaven is not full of metaphors I can change but I won't. When I write best this way unlike you. Your will I don't want just my cat. Coming back here your heart once mine was too heavy. Wide and straight the road. Narrow paths for dark horses the moon the clouds they pass by me lost without you my bed wetter. God help me I can once again hear loud sucking noises soft whimpers and quite cries for a price. Mummy the bottle on the floor it is empty. She comes in a double glass, blood red dress. I did not write this because of the hairy eye hiding. But children and their secret lips confessed. James McLain Thursday, August 11, 2011