i
love los angeles
but
my love is unrequited
tired
of things having a hold on me
that
i let go of long ago
do
you know
how
quickly i get bored
with
your art:
your
song, your poem, your movie, your novel
especially
if it is about los angeles
two
pages, two words, two minutes
and
i’ve moved on
especially
if it was a hit
something
that the majority relates to
as
don mclean mocked,
“what
makes good money
makes
good art”
the
point being – i’m bored
the
second you soliloquy
so
i’ll just write and walk
on
these seedy sidewalks
of
l.a.
another
volume of
the
dark streets of decay
and
i will try
to
act like i care
when
you share
the
vacancy sign
of
your mind
because
you think:
because
you think
therefore
you are
under
the influence
of
erroneous thinkers
who
scar the flesh
with
fabric fashioned
by
the designer who created
the
emperor’s new clothes
i
sleep with a clear conscience
because
i know
your
standards do not exist
deleted
from my playlist
which
has very few songs
so
construe, misconstrue
there
is nothing we are due
i
cannot avoid
only
anesthetize
numb
the pain
of
your vanity
that
can’t just sit with me
and
enjoy
the
emptiness of existence
because
all these fillers
and
by products
are
just your need
ingrained
in the
ignorance
of insistence
***
No comments:
Post a Comment