Written right after I came back from Amsterdam with Chris Bill and Dough

Amsterdamnit

How agreeable it is to be touring Amsterdam this winter,
wandering her streets and ascending her breakneck stairs.
A pleasure to cruise these local, familiar streets,
fully grasping the meaning of every road sign and billboard
the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.

There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes or famous
domes and there is no need to memorize a succession
of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon.
No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon's
little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.

How much better to command the simple precinct of home
than be dwarfed by pillar, arch, and basilica.
Why hide my head in phrase books and wrinkled maps?
Why feed scenery into a hungry, one-eyes camera
eager to eat the world one monument at a time?

Instead of slouching in a café ignorant of the word for ice,
I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress
known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning
paper, all language barriers down,
rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way.

And after breakfast, I will not have to find someone
willing to photograph me with my arm around the owner.
I will not puzzle over the bill or record in a journal
what I had to eat and how the sun came in the window.
It is enough to light a joint and smile

more fucked up shit I wrote after molly dumped me.

Suicide Note
If I die
It will be by my own hand
The rest of you will be left to wonder
why I
was trying to get away from
me.

Wow I was depressed when I wrote this (but it's pretty well constructed)

Ending

flaccid seated upon the couch,
midnight, lapping cheap vodka
from a cup, Jesus, have I come
to this?
I once battled at parties
for a laugh.
now I'm not laughing.
I swallow joylessly and wonder,
How much time will be asked from me?
how many days?
my soul is empty and
a stupefying clarity rests in my brain.
things arrive; they pass
they go to nothing.
I understand the fall of cities, of
nations.
Light shimmers on the cock pit
of a large crane.
I look towards it as if it made sense to
look upward. it's true, the sky has rotted:
it won't be long for any of
us.

Another one along the same lines. This is the worst shit ever.

Do you think of me
When the music of morning
First begins to sound,
When his barks and their horns
stir your world with their singing?

Do you think of me
As the sun lengthens shadows,
Until all the world
Fades into one big shadow,
And the night music begins?

Do you think of me
As your eyes close, and the night
Folds in around you,
Like the arms of a lover,
To hold you until morning?

You are in my mind
During all of these moments.
You are the music
Of my life, but I wonder,
Do you ever think of me?

The Hunt (correction this is about a bad first date that ends in sex (possible all first dates that end this way are bad))

To cleave through the night
Like an butchers knife
Carving this very second
Exposing the bone

To sprinkle on it
That which fills my ears
The electric clink of silver on teeth
The boiling, brimming murmur between
Launching myself like a ship to sea
Through the aroma clouds
Stinging, clinging molecules
Of beer and ash

Dipping it into this glass
Ensuring my platitudes with the burn
That rolls down my throat, molasses-like,
Flesh-numbing, happy

Finally framing it with the walls
The corners of this stinking place
So it would never powder in palms
Clenched, losing

Then I would have you

Invalidation

The snapping intensifies
my senses aroused
I know she's trying to get my attention

*Slap*

Perhaps a bit more than physical

She gives in to her qualms
I give in to my idiocy
I can't help the coward within

She lashes
I wilt

Well this isn't the sort of S&M I had in mind
No leather
No whips

Just myself
reddened, and bruised.

fucking the dog

All you have to do is walk this way
around the bend and just past the point of no return
you, simply,
open your mouth and remove all filters
say what you want
liberate your ideas.

Do not spare feelings,
Do not parse words
Do not hold your tongue

This path of openess
is mostly a route to your pettiness
revel in your inability to express
do not revile your ability to upset

Own your shit
You will make people mad
They will hate you
Or at least think you odd

You will be well on your way
to that glorious place
where you've fucked the dog.