Bukowksi had it easy

he would dine on wine

slam his typewriter

and get laid

I have it rough

gulping chocolate milk

slamming my keyboard

laying down all the damn time

he died in 94

same year I was born

maybe that's a bad omen

maybe I don't have it so bad

but I'm still alone and poor

still unknown to the world and myself

a dirty fucking loser

praying for a stroke of wit