Early morning terrors
ghosts and bad visions beset by a rough cough
but the road was empty
so I did 70 smoking 100’s
all smooth
watching the hills and hovel cities
trying to escape (for once)
the drunk and selfish nobles
by way of a northern ocean town
called Paso Robles.
-August 7th, 2010
Scotty
My room smells like bad coffee
which is better than
semen and shameful longing.
I pour a cup,
and remember that I need to
retrieve my flask
from Heidi —
the next time I’m out,
but booze would be alright
right now.
What do those old china men
know?
I gave them seventy-five cents
outside the dry cleaners,
and they told me to follow
the good
In my life
and I’ll be happy.
I try to call, but the rings
fall head first from the receiver,
like always.
Out a buck with the madness
creeping in, I try to remember
what I did yesterday
but cannot recall,
and shrugg.
Burning grass and wide eyes
while I pick up
some wet, wet whiskey
to fall into
amongst the cheap darkness.
-September 14th, 2010
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