Blue Bird & Horehound. MF Bukowski.
So good. 

Like the fox, I run with the hunted. And if I’m not the happiest man on Earth, I’m surely the luckiest man alive.

I often carry things to read
so that I will not have to look at
the people.

I wasn’t a misanthrope and I wasn’t a misogynist but I liked being alone. It felt good to sit alone in a small space and smoke and drink. I had always been good company for myself.

(via sinistralkris)

I wasn’t lonely.
I experienced no self-pity.
I was just caught up in a
life in which
I could find no
meaning.

And yet women-good women—frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine, I wanted to keep.

The shoulder blades sticking out as if they wanted to grow wings through that skin. Little blades, she was helpless.