I’ve Been Out Drinking With Bukowski, Again.

I’m uncertain
if success
really means all that much
whether
the removal of doubt
would change
me.

Consciousness dilated:
white, white,
pure white.

I’m uncertain
if death
really means all that much
whether
the removal of thought
would change
me.

Consciousness dilated:
white, white,
pure white.

I’ve been out drinking with Bukowski, again.
It’s been a while old friend.

There is one certainty we agreed upon:
success and death,
my love,
are nothing more
than pretty words.