segunda-feira, 11 de janeiro de 2010

Some people (Charles Bukowski)

Some people never go crazy.
Me, sometimes I'll lie down behind the couch
for 3 or 4 days.
They'll find me there.
It's Cherub, they'll say, and
they pour wine down my throat
rub my chest
sprinkle me with oils. 
Then, I'll rise with a roar,
rant, rage -
curse them and the universe
as I send them scattering over the
I'll feel much better,
sit down to toast and eggs,
hum a little tune, 
suddenly become as lovable as a
overfed whale. 
Some people never go crazy.
what truly horrible lives
they must lead.

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