Henry Chinaski

Born

Detail
…None to dwell upon, Moving on…
Take a drink. Same Detail. Not dwelling,
Take a drink. Forget.
Moving.
Detail.
Take a drink. Same detail. Not dwelling,
Take a drink. Forget.
Moving.
Detail.
Moving,
Drink. Drink,
Swig. Dose.
Swallow. Dose.
-Purge-
…Fuck…
.Drink,
S l e e p.

.Repeat previous stanza.


Write
He can’t live without us

Repeat previous stanza

In-FAME
Die
FAME
Immortality

…Everybody dies,
who’s dwelling now?
Hm?

Clouds of doves that never shit?
Nope.

Every detail noted and not counted.
Each detail painfully reoccurs
in the same way
numb-to-pain,
blacked-out drunkard
burns himself with a cigarette
every night.
The pain never registers,
the wound may be
regarded, then, disregarded
with another easy distraction.
The body - a vessel;
soul nothing,
or at least, insignificant.
No other form symbolizing…
Sans satisfaction,
nothing worth doing.
To call this a philosophy!
would do it injustice.
Anti-philosophy?
Maybe. But I doubt it.
Thinking about it is probably unjust-
If I’d… care if I’d lose the irony?
The doves still aren’t shitting.
He wouldn’t give a shit.

Would he?
Hm.

Quarter life crisis

Move into the kitchen
It reeks like cigarettes, wine and cliche.
I'm 23 years old
The dull gray cat peeks around the corner.
Into the kitchen, she peers
at...

She always stares at what she wants.
Telepathically I do her bidding.
--Such a simple existence.
I am the peak of the food chain;
there is no one to hear my stares.
The domesticated cat -- a slave to the master.
I am her master.
Where is my master?

I am the muted lee of a tree.
The weathered side gleams,
shiny and old with beaten bark.
I am thick and untouched and growing moss.
One should know which side that is on,
But I've always needed a compass to figure it out
despite how obvious...

I am waiting.
I am waiting to be eaten.