I once lay in awhite hospitalfor the dying and the dyingself, where some god pissed a rain ofreason to make things growonly to die, where on my knees. I prayed for LIGHT, I prayed for l*i*g*h*t, and prayingcrawled like a blind slug into thewebwhere threads of wind stuck against my mindand I died of pityfor Man, for myself, on a cross without nails, watching in fear asthe pig belches in his sty, farts, blinks and eats.
Charles BukowskiAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer, Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: August 16, 1920
- Died: March 9, 1994
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