"I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can't feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then. but I think I have known it pretty often, too often."
— Charles Bukowski (Tales of Ordinary Madness)
Friday, July 15, 2011
And the meat wagon pulls up with hot dogs...
And a rage erupts from deep inside screaming at the full moon. I simmer down and get real sweet hoping the moonlight will haunt me for forever knowing full well it wont.
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