Charley Buck

Charles

 

He envisions a life like Bukowski.

Never quite could let go that much .

The despair , fear , loneliness and anger .

Alienation and a longing for a love .

A love that can’t be understood .

A life from outside the herd.

There was a small time of belonging .

That was given up in a slow motion riot .

The mind that booze and pills couldn’t quiet .

It’s not a glamorous or glorious thing .

He’s puked countlessly trying on that scene.

Places uncommon , places mostly imagined .

If he had the nerve ... he’d chase the dragon.

Hanging on alien and outsider .

Failed in the role of provider .

Big pharma and the IRS ... anybody’s guess.

All in on the wrong hand ... overthinking her demand .

All butt-hurt .. should have only been a minute .

Refusing to give in wanting back in it .

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741