sway with me, everything sad —

madmen in stone houses

without doors,

lepers steaming love and song

frogs trying to figure

the sky;

sway with me, sad things —

fingers split on a forge

old age like breakfast shell

used books, used people

used flowers, used love

I need you

I need you

I need you:

it has run away

like a horse or a dog,

dead or lost

or unforgiving.

— Charles Bukowski