I leave the Mission around midnight
high on Lithium, Lambrusco and loneliness.
I walk the ten blocks past Tillie's Tavern,
past the 24 hour copy center,
down to the edge of the water.
I stare at shapes suspended in the darkness.
Ships beneath black clouds
hover over the black sea.
Spring-breakers living at full volume
give me the urge to vomit - and drink more.
I enter a beach house pulsating with IDM and Vitamin X,
weave through youth twisted together like larva.
I don't know anyone,
I'm just looking for somewhere to piss.
The kids are laughing and talking and laughing.
At nothing. About nothing.
Behind masks of ecstasy,
I watch them burn through the best years of their lives,
and I can see all the way to the edge of
And I wish I were a blind and writhing maggot -
pure and oblivious
and on fire again.