thoughts for a dead friend

“hello, how are you?
this fear of being
what they are… dead”

Bukowski, I love you
but oh how I would
have hated you
So bitter, so cynical, so resigned
everything I fear in myself
Did you fear happiness Charlie?
so hungry, and yet so scared…

Did you figure it out Charlie?
did you get your fill,
of women
of rage
of passion.
were you addicted to feeling
so much that you didn’t care
if it was pain or pleasure
or do you know the difference?


“All we need to continue alone
Are the dead:
Rattling the walls that close us in”

But Charlie I’d rather keep
better company than you.
You my darker side,
You my guilty laugh
A fearful threat
To what is good in me
To what is left of hope in me

Is that it Charlie?
Your dead entourage in tow,
did you forget to be
For fear of becoming?