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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354598" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Freedom</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">he drank wine all night of the <br>28th, and he kept thinking of her: <br>the way she walked and talked and loved <br>the way she told him things that seemed true <br>but were not, and he knew the color of each <br>of her dresses <br>and her shoes-he knew the stock and curve of <br>each heel <br>as well as the leg shaped by it. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and she was out again and when he came home,and <br>she'd come back with that special stink again, <br>and she did <br>she came in at 3 a.m in the morning <br>filthy like a dung eating swine <br>and <br>he took out a butchers knife <br>and she screamed <br>backing into the rooming house wall <br>still pretty somehow <br>in spite of love's reek <br>and he finished the glass of wine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">that yellow dress <br>his favorite <br>and she screamed again. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and he took up the knife <br>and unhooked his belt <br>and tore away the cloth before her <br>and cut off his balls. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and carried them in his hands <br>like apricots <br>and flushed them down the <br>toilet bowl <br>and she kept screaming <br>as the room became red </div><div style="margin:10px 0">GOD O GOD! <br>WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and he sat there holding 3 towels <br>between his legs <br>no caring now whether she left or <br>stayed <br>wore yellow or green or <br>anything at all. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and one hand holding and one hand <br>lifting he poured <br>another wine</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Bukowski">Charles Bukowski</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354598" data-title="Freedom de Charles Bukowski" data-description="he drank wine all night of the 
28th, and he kept thinking of her: 
the way she walked and talked and loved 
the way she told him things that seemed true 
but were not, and he knew the color of each 
of her dresses 
and her shoes-he knew the stock..."></div>
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