I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife
inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as
long as possible -
not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:
trying to connect.

the old composers - Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me
and they were dead.

finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewd for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take my hours
break them
piss on them.

now I work for the editors the readers the critics

but still hang around and drink with
Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the
Bee
some buddies
some men
sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone
are the dead
rattling the walls
that close us in.

― Charles Bukowski Tweet