Like Bukowski, Poe or Baudelaire

So out of my mind that I can’t think straight.

And so it goes.

Someone said that all the time every night. Do you think he ever got tired of his tagline? Do you think it caused that extra-maddening hard-hitting slam of the glass on the mahogany bar wedged into the corner of John Cassavetes mind meld. I can actually see it in my mind.

Why do things end up this way? What am I doing and have I done, so wrong?

And here it goes, again.

Unanswerable questions. And everything I do is wrong.
I am a Johnny Cash song.
My life is nothing more than tragedy
At the hands of fallacy
And here I go
Fast again.
100 more words to go to get thru this and who will even care when all is said and done? I wish I had is overwrought and, like Bukowski, Poe or Baudelaire, all I want to do is get drunk.

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