The world had somehow gone too far, and spontaneous kindness could never be so easy.
Charles BukowskiIโve had so many knives stuck into me, when they hand me a flower I canโt quite make out what it is. It takes time.
Charles Bukowskii am with the roots of flowers entwined, entombed sending up my passionate blossoms as a flight of rockets and argument; wine churls my throat, above me feet walk upon my brain, monkies fall from the sky clutching photographs of the planets, but i seek only music and the leisure of my pain
Charles Bukowski