There's A Yellowbird In My Heart That Wants To Stay, Bukowski

because i'm the one
being shat on,
it'll end up being
my fault. it's always
that way with me.
you won't believe
what i have to say
and tell your friends
tell him but don't
tell me because

when i got married
i did it for love and
to say goodbye to the
past but this doesn't
matter because i'm
the bad guy if my
feelings are hurt but

that's my past and love
is so incremental in
vast given time.
don't take my memories
from me. don't take my
increments of life—
i only get one past
in this not-so-infinite
life and my psyche

has real bullshit to
deal with in place of
drama bullshit and

all my unblessing will
do is add censored books
to the fire for the game
that supposedly is just
no fun. Clue for the
soul that does or does
not exist. fucked up
game of "guess who?"


so my only solution is
no solution. i can't help
but dangle over the big
picture; i can't help
but see the future, and
i'll save me the trouble
for once and not be
angry at someone i love
and let distance be both
love and anger because
like always, i give. let
gifts be shit for me.
let son-of-a-bitch
be life and let
fuck be you
again.