Burning in Hell.bukowski

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a poem

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burning in hell

burning in hellthis piece of me fits in nowhereas other people find thingsto dowith their timeplaces to gowith one anotherthings to sayto each other.

I amburning in hellsome place north of Mexico.flowers don't grow here.

I am not likeother peopleother people are likeother people.

they are all alike:joininggroupinghuddlingthey are bothgleeful and contentand i amburning in hell.

my heart is a thousand years oldI am not likeother people.I'd die on their picnic groundssmothered by their flagsslugged by their songsunloved by their soldiersgored by their humormurdered by their concern.

I am not likeother people.I amburning in hell.

the hell ofmyself.

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