Drunk on Aluminum

Oh my, are you the beast again?
Is it the violence you like?
Oh my, I feel it crawling in
Gnawing, reptilian
In the lost, loney night
I wanna know
Cut out the sickness
Cut it in self defense
Cut the yellowing eyes
Skylines, bloody and cancerous
Color the dead patches
Make it white, make it white

Wild eyes, I feel the teeth again
Gnawing and imminent
In the lost, loney night
Oh my, give me the words again
Paint it aluminum
Make it white, make it white

I’ve never been lonely. I’ve been in a room — I’ve felt suicidal. I’ve been depressed. I’ve felt awful — awful beyond all — but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me…or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I’ve never been bothered with because I’ve always had this terrible itch for solitude. It’s being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I’ll quote Ibsen, “The strongest men are the most alone.” I’ve never thought, “Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I’ll feel good.” No, that won’t help. You know the typical crowd, “Wow, it’s Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?” Well, yeah. Because there’s nothing out there. It’s stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I’ve never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn’t want to hide in factories. That’s all. Sorry for all the millions, but I’ve never been lonely. I like myself. I’m the best form of entertainment I have. Let’s drink more wine!
― Charles Bukowski
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