there's no clarity.there was never meant to be clarity.

sometimes when everything seems atits worstwhen all conspiresand gnawsand the hours, days, weeksyearsseem wasted – stretched there upon my bedin the darklooking upward at the ceilingi get what many will consider anobnoxious thought:it’s still nice to beBukowski.

when we were kidslaying around the lawnon ourbellies we often talkedabouthowwe'd like todie andwe allagreed on thesamething; we'd alllike to diefucking (althoughnone of ushaddone anyfucking) and nowthatwe are hardlykidsany longer we think moreabouthownot todie andalthoughwe'reready most ofuswouldprefer todo italone under thesheets nowthat most ofus have fuckedour livesaway.

having nothing to struggleagainstthey have nothing to strugglefor.

the gods seldomgivebut so quicklytake.

I see a brightportionunder the overhead lightthat shades intodarknessand then into darkerdarknessand I can't see beyond that.

I care for you, darling, I love you,the only reason I fucked L. is because you fuckedZ. and then I fucked R. and you fucked N.and because you fucked N. I had to fuckY. But I think of you constantly, I feel youhere in my belly like a baby, love I'd call it,no matter what happens I'd call it love, and soyou fucked C. and then before I could moveyou fucked W., so I had to fuck D. ButI want you to know that I love you, I think of youconstantly, I don't think I've ever loved anybodylike I love you.

the gods play nofavorites.

darkness falls upon Humanityand faces become terriblethingsthat wanted more than therewas.all our days are marked withunexpectedaffronts - somedisastrous, othersless sobut the process iswearing andcontinuous.attrition rules.most givewayleavingempty spaceswhere people shouldbe.and nowas we ready to self-destructthere is very little left tokillwhich makes the tragedyless and moremuch muchmore.