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    Default Alone With Everybody

    the flesh covers the bone
    and they put a mind
    in there and sometimes a soul,
    and the women break vases
    against the walls and the men drink
    too much and nobody finds
    the one but keep looking crawling
    in and out of beds.
    flesh covers the bone
    and the flesh searches for more
    than flesh. there's no chance at all:
    we are all trapped by a singular fate.
    nobody ever finds the one.
    the city dumps fill the junkyards
    fill the madhouses fill the hospitals f
    ill the graveyards fill nothing else fills. -

    Written By :-
    Charles Bukowski,







 

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