Don’t do it





Unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder,
don’t do it.
unless the sun inside you is burning your gut,
don’t do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by itself and
it will keep on doing it until you die
or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was.

By Charles Bukowski

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