Caarver
Digs at your heart like a pick axe.
No afternoons should be spent with red wine and a pick axe.
No,
Not in this state atleast.
Carver you gloomy bastard.
No,
Fante,
John is the way to go.
No nothing fits better
With the sun struggling to fill the pages
Through the slits in the blinds at 2:30
(third glass of..)
Then that son of a bitch
Bandini.
Bukouski just makes you want to
Quit and fight
But
Fante,
Bandini,
Allows the day to swim by
Like a dream.
And when you wake up,
Still broke
Still broken
Still here,
Your heart is still in tact,
And your face isn't busted,
And sure you may have to go out for more wine
But
At least you made it through Tuesday.
For some reason.