Everything

...

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
eachother.

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 will understand
when I am dead

I got as much
as
possible.




by Charles Bukowski