I\'m on a Bukowskiesque roll;
pounding them out,
seven or eight a night.
I know it won\'t last.
It\'s like a fast.
It\'s the hunger that
drives you.
And when you\'re starving,
you eat--then rest,
not today though, I\'ve hit
my stride.
And the night is mine for
the taking.
And the words are mine for
the raping.
And my heart I am staking
on the fact
that
I will stay hungry.