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Oct 12, 2009
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Bukowski Pissed In My Cornflakes
I saw the bastard
on my way to the track house
he was butchering chords
on some old-ass guitar
sounding like cat claws on a window
Guitar and voice
old and scratchy
like the tired stubble that forever grows
on this beaten face of mine
And I gave
I gave
gave
him twenty dollars just
to shut the
fuck
up
on my way to the track house
he was butchering chords
on some old-ass guitar
sounding like cat claws on a window
Guitar and voice
old and scratchy
like the tired stubble that forever grows
on this beaten face of mine
And I gave
I gave
gave
him twenty dollars just
to shut the
fuck
up
— infinite_dwarf, Oct 12, 2009
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Critiques
Race_9togo
16 years 7 months ago
Hi Jess,
infinite_dwarf
16 years 5 months ago
Jim
Rett
16 years 7 months ago
Actually, I liked the poem
Kailashana
16 years 7 months ago
Reminds me of a *Few Dollars
themoonman
16 years 7 months ago
Jess...
Kailashana
16 years 7 months ago
hehehehe. But did you
Dalton
16 years 7 months ago
A word from Dalton
Pamela A. Lamppa
16 years 7 months ago
Nicely done
dbaker
16 years 6 months ago
Kicking Piece
weirdelf
16 years 5 months ago
love this!
infinite_dwarf
16 years 5 months ago
thanks, folks!
Seren
16 years 5 months ago
Jess I loved this one the