#9 rings

[fleur--des--champs]

Love Me - 1975

[watkinsthunder-blog]

9 rings (Charles Bukowski)

the simple misery of survival the tyranny of ancient rules and new deaths, the coming of the beetle-winged enemy chanting, cursing bits of blood and grit; I slam my fingers in the window as the phone rings. I count 9 rings and then it stops; some voice it was to test my reality when I have no reality, when I am water walking around bone in a green room.

I wold burn the swans in their lake, I would send messengers to the mountaintop to razz the clouds.

she was getting to be a dull lay anyway.