alone with everybody

The flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul

and the woman break
and the man drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
loking
crawlig in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more then
flesh

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singlar
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the jnkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

anonymous submission.

charles bukowski