“Everything” by Charles Bukowski

the dead do not need
aspirin or
sorrow,
I suppose.

but they might need rain.

not shoes
but a place to
walk.

not cigarettes
they tell us,
but a place to
burn.

or we’re told;
space and a place to
fly
might be the same.

the dead don’t need
me.

nor do the
living.

but the dead might need
each
other.

in fact, the dead might need
everything we
need

and
we need so much,
if we only knew
what it
was.

it is
probably
everything

and we will all
probably die
trying to get
it

or die

because we
don’t get
it.

I hope you understand
when I am dead

I got
as much
as
possible.

~ Charles Bukowski,  (The Roominghouse Madrigals[​IMG])