crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
crawled like a blind slug into the web — Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
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crawled like a blind slug into the web

— Charles Bukowski, The People Look Like Flowers at Last
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bukowski poetry

More “Bukowski” Quotes

we are burning like a chicken wing left on the grill of an outdoor barbecuewe are unwanted and burning we are burning an — Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
she wasn't veryinterestingbut few peopleare. — Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
the price of creationis nevertoo high.the price of livingwith other peoplealwaysis. — Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
the world is better withoutthem.only the plants and the animals aretrue comrades.I drink to them and withthem. — Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
Whether I was a genius or not did not so much concern me as the fact that I simply did not want a part of anything. The — Charles Bukowski, Portions from a Wine-Stained Notebook: Uncollected Stories and Essays, 1944-1990
there are so many dayswhen living stops and pulls up and sitsand waits like a train on the rails. — Charles Bukowski
I know that some nightin some bedroomsoonmy fingers willriftthroughsoft cleanhairsongs such as no radioplaysall sadness, — Charles Bukowski, Love Is a Dog from Hell
there’s nothing todiscussthere’s nothing torememberthere’s nothing toforgetit’s sadand it’s notsadseems themost sensible — Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a person could get. — Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye
there's no clarity.there was never meant to be clarity. — Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
darkness falls upon Humanityand faces become terriblethingsthat wanted more than therewas.all our days are marked withun — Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
when you're younga pair offemalehigh-heeled shoesjust sittingalonein the closetcan fire yourbones — when you're oldit's justa pair of shoeswithoutanybodyin themandjust aswell.