I was always a natural slob <br />I liked to lay upon the bed <br />in undershirt (stained, of <br />course) (and with cigarette <br />holes) <br />shoes off <br />beerbottle in hand <br />trying to shake off a <br />difficult night, say with a <br />woman still around <br />walking the floor <br />complaining about this and <br />that, <br />and I'd work up a <br />belch and say, "HEY, YOU DON'T <br />LIKE IT? THEN GET YOUR ASS <br />OUT OF HERE!" <br /> <br />I really loved myself, I <br />really loved my slob- <br />self, and <br />they seemed to also: <br />always leaving <br />but almost <br />always <br />coming <br />back.<br /><br />Charles Bukowski<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-great-slob/
