a poem by charles bukowski

in the morning
I felt as sad
as a piece of shit.

So I fucked my pussy-like dog.

It felt juicy
like festered brain,

But I still felt
down in the
dumps.

So I took an apple
and pummelled it
between my two fists.

And had a chuckle,
then sat and grumbled out the window
that the world was fucked as a cocked hat
and by my stripes,
I'd have no more of it.

It was a watermelon day,
Like the sweat in my elbow cracks.

I guess it wasn't so bad.