My name is Trey. You can follow or you can be a chicken head. The choice is up to you.
to the whore who took my poems to the whore who took my poems to the whore who took my poems
some say we should keep personal remorse from the poem, stay abstract, and there is some reason in this, but jezus; twelve poems gone and I don't keep carbons and you have my paintings too, my best ones; it's stifling: are you trying to crush me out like the rest of them? why didn't you take my money? they usually do from the sleeping drunken pants sick in the corner. next time take my left arm or a fifty but not my poems; I'm not Shakespeare but sometime simply there won't be any more, abstract or otherwise; there'll always be money and whores and drunkards down to the last bomb, but as God said, crossing his legs, I see where I have made plenty of poets but not so very much poetry.
-Bukowski
it’s all about yourself isn’t it Trey?
you selfish self centered asshole
![thedailywhat:
Epic Eyewear of the Day: Black Handlebar Mustache Sunglasses.
To think of all the years I wasted walking around with mustache-less shades.
[popcandy / epicponyz.]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lrgxv3xRaQ1qzpwi0o1_500.jpg)
Epic Eyewear of the Day: Black Handlebar Mustache Sunglasses.
To think of all the years I wasted walking around with mustache-less shades.
INVISIBLE LAWN CHAIR
if i could only listen to one album for the rest of my life this would be it
