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nature poem
you are 50,000 Light Years
running through my brain in
tracksuits or
you are like sitting in a bar
with enough money
with a good drink
and looking through the window
at the snow
you are the dead fish of miracle
moving
you are the love-god of ice cream
phantasy
you have diminished the screaming of
children as they drink my
blood
I think that you have killed landlords
wanting rent
and also bad
tigers
there is a white flower laying against
my screen
like a whore
like a cat
like a white flower
I could not go to work
tonight because I could not
stop living
and now I am lying in bed
looking at the white flower.
—charles bukowski
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