Bukowski Never Did ThisHell; I really thought I was ready.
God knows I've spent enough time
going crazy in this tiny little room.
But your eyes set fire to pinstripes,
and I can see the disapproval
on that minefield face of yours.
You know four hour meetings
and monthly pace reports take
just as much endurance as your
whores, beer and long vacant nights.
I’ve been without women, without food,
without hope and my calloused fingers
have battered and bled on plenty of keys.
My script has more than one scene
and the protagonist has an arc;
a dingy hotel to an apartment in Murray Hill.
A six figure life can still kick you in the balls,
and there’s angst and pain and confusion
even behind the wheel of a Mercedes Benz.
I’ll continue to live my 9 to 5 days
and bang out my ordinary words.
I hope with time, I’ll win your respect
and if I don't, well that’s all right too.
(Reference)
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