bukowski was right about this

 a woman on the bus

the most awesome set of
wrinkles
on her face,

quite shapely body
&
a relaxed disposition.

all sinewy
&
quality old leather
tough.

like a Hemingway's sailor.
&
that made me so hard
i had to laugh.

invalid r.o.a.

plug
unfold
forced hand

my throat
or
your balance.

poison moving within me
is a living thing
stretches & scratches its
balls
awakening.

sentience fit into biology
now,
that is a fucking joke.
not a anticlimax
too soon.

waste or resort to hydromorphone

point driven
point made loose.
had i a record
of those
there would be something
to assess.
my memory
though
is lacking.

slow learning

compliance
&
fuck me,
a surprise.
eaten away
nerve by nerve
a bit of compensation.
at a time
&
now
all out of
relief.
color
&
smell
ought to reassure,
driven home
i remember i forgot
 it's utterly unrewarding now.
well,
fuck me.
ought to keep a log.
forgot to remember
that
i am worn through.
all the way.