waiting for the J
reading Bukowski ranting between gusts
of winter's worn out knives, listening
to my mind whispering his words
The train coming now
Doppler effect with its waves
while watching people rise to meet their ways
and I catch my mind speaking louder
to be heard over the zeal of the brakes
louder and louder, myself
reading, now silent screaming,
until I stop and realize
this train is inserting itself
squeezing in something nasty
it's fucking my focus
the Bukowski is losing to the goddamn train schedule!
my entire self being
killed by what I have to do
I close the book and rise
watching people load
but I can't move with them now,
I will not be a part
of a steelish beast like that
without some serious literature
something rancid
something that'll make me not want
to accomplish goals. Jesus.
Where could I find something like that?
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