_trapped_ bijou in the winter walking on my ceiling my eyes the size of the street- lamps. I have 4 feet like a mouse but wash my own underwear - bearded and hungover and a hard-on and no lawyer. I have a face like a washrag. I sing love songs and carry steel. I would rather die than cry. I can't stand hounds can't live without them. I hang my head against the white refrigerator and want to scream like the last weeping of life forever but I am bigger than the mountains. Charles Bukowski. 031122 what's it to you? who go blather from