Charles Bukowski - This, then

it's the same as before

or the other time

or the time before that.

here's a cock

and here´s a cunt

and here's trouble.

only each time

you think

well now I've learned:

I'll let her do that

and I'll do this,

I no longer want it all,

just some comfort and

some sex

and only a minor love.

now I'm waiting again

and the years run thin.

I have my radio and

the kitchen walls are yellow.

I keep dumping bottles

and listening for footsteps.

I hope that death

contains less than this.