Bukowski Bedtime Story

Bukowski Bedtime Story
Those who are crazy are brilliant
I tell myself this
Bukowski said this
Bukowski knows
I have never read bukowski
Those quotes let me know
That he is someone to admire
I do this all the time
Find a muse
A muse that is dead
Or a muse that has passed
My musings are temporary
They rarely evolve
Into more than a mere preoccupation
To take me away from me
Curiosity
That’s what I call it
I would claim it to be inspiration
Those words have yet to touch my brain
So I cannot draw from anything more than an idea
But that idea is a fantasy
And I like fantasies
They serve me well
whoever I want to be
I can be in my mind
This I fantasize
Synthetic sun
Crimson liquidity
In this
My calm exists
It takes away my fear
It lulls my mind
it helps to put me to sleep without thought
so the realization of an empty bed
and an empty heart
don’t keep me awake at night
i force myself to wait
until my eyeballs are sore
and my head aches for rest
it’s not time yet
I may think a thought
i may feel a feeling
this is dangerous territory
I wish I had love
Real love to touch
I forget how to ask for love
So I just don’t ask
Its been two years
since I felt loved
and that love was a farce
its been twelve years
since love consumed me
like I now wish it would
st. marks street
is supposed to supplement this void
with the noise noise noise
but tonight it is quiet
I don’t like the quiet
When there is quiet
I can hear those thoughts
Those thoughts I want to quell