The Dark Edge by Charles Bukowski 

"There I was, trying to get pushed over the dark edge... and I ended up with free drinks".
💧 This poem by Charles Bukowski is one of my favorites. As someone who once suffered from many long periods of depression, I can relate to it deeply. I still remember when I had my first case of depression and how confused I was. I believed that no one could understand how I felt... until I found this novel called "Ham on Rye" by Charles Bukowski in which I found many words that comforted me in a very strange way. Knowing that I wasn't alone and that there was someone else out there that had felt like me, made me believe that I could deal with it at some point.
Hope that this video could help you in that strange way also.
Thanks for watching!
💧 Some Bukowski’s Books:
📔Essential Bukowski: Poetry
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📔Burning in Water, Drowning in Flame
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📔The Last Night of the Earth Poems
amzn.to/3sHuopU
📔 Ham On Rye: A Novel
amzn.to/3Z2ks6F
📔Post Office: A Novel
amzn.to/45HyIUM
📔Women: A Novel
amzn.to/3RawqsH
📔You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense
amzn.to/3EwRwtK
📔Love is a Dog From Hell
amzn.to/3LaqFHQ
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💧 For those dealing with depression, anxiety or grief: Therapy is one of the things that has literally changed my life for the better and I'll never get tired of recommending it to everyone.
Get 20% discount from Online Therapy today: onlinetherapy....
💧 By the way, If you like short stories, you may enjoy reading one of my short horror stories: vocal.media/ho...
💧 Narrator
Tom O'bedlam
/ spokenverse
💧 Music
All Day (Instrumental) by Tilden Parc
💧 Poem
"The suicide kid" By Charles Bukowski
I went to the worst of bars
hoping to get
killed.
but all I could do was to
get drunk
again.
worse, the bar patrons even
ended up
liking me.
there I was trying to get
pushed over the dark
edge
and I ended up with
free drinks
while somewhere else
some poor
son-of-a-bitch was in a hospital
bed,
tubes sticking out all over
him
as he fought like hell
to live.
nobody would help me
die as
the drinks kept
coming,
as the next day
waited for me
with its steel clamps,
its stinking
anonymity,
its incogitant
attitude.
death doesn't always
come running
when you call
it,
not even if you
call it
from a shining
castle
or from an ocean liner
or from the best bar
on earth (or the
worst).
such impertinence
only makes the gods
hesitate and
delay.
ask me: I'm
72.