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Simon Holzmann Jun 2020
I wake up on a golden beach, relaxed.
In the surging neon plenty of a reveling metropolis
that can’t wait to leave yesterday behind,
I cheerfully embrace the warmth radiating from my chest.

And I dance
with the ghosts of Chiba, Chiba.

Sipping in the Chiba sun.
Hacienda, cheaper ***
than anywhere, I don't care.
I'm sleeping with my boss's wife
and leave her on a beach at night.
Disheveled, drunk, and sickly high.
Delve deep into bohemian life.

Chinese cigarettes, imported;
Rice cakes, ginger tea, and pork chops;
*** fights in deserted courtyards;
Betting thousands, deal out more cards;
Go all in and ditch the loan sharks.

My cat with laryngitis and only one eye
keeps watch as OD-Girls doze off and die,
Choking on puke and the air of a city
that runs low on love and the last fumes of pity.
Odds stacked against me for as far as I can see.

Hookers greet me, pimps compete with me;
My number one is fifteen and smells sweetly;
I make 'em pay dearly;
I move house yearly;
I come home to 8-ball freakouts weekly;
Adrenalin shots in ghostly veins run freely.
Running lonely in bodies so completely
riddled with pain that is too much to take
and too little to ****.
I'll decide when I've had my fill.

I wake up on a purple beach, paralyzed.
In the burning neon excess of a frenzied metropolis
that can’t wait to burn through its own circuits,
I hopelessly fight back the acidic swell in my throat.

And I dance
with the ghosts of Chiba, Chiba.

— The End —