ode to that whore, amsterdam

amsterdam, you are a cruel cunt of a mistress with your red lights and promises of sin
perusing my paris papers i see that i was lamenting my good fortune
and wishing to be down and out
now it’s projection manifestation
400 kilometers north as i sound like henry
happy-go-lucky and hungry
sex-crazed soliloquies on a stage meant for sermons
amsterdam, you conniving kankerwhore
your disease is doling out fair-weather friendships and
counterfeit culture
fetishizing artistic starvation as you order me to get down on my knees
for the wasted, window-shopping tourists
your heart is as cold as your winters but
you cannot bullshit a bullshitter and
i never go down without a fight
amsterdam, you salacious slut
we are coming on another christmas
another hobo biertje
another sleepless night wrapped like a gift in my lover’s arms
i’m not asking
i’m demanding
that this year you stop lifting up your skirts to piss on the poor and pitiful
who are working with the scraps from your table and
turning them into feasts
be a bitch in the bedroom but
a lady on the street
and let your sons and daughters thrive instead of survive
let us have a future instead of just tonight

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