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broken watch
there was no traffic,
driving west down the 10 to exit la brea north,
and then right onto hollywood blvd.
i parked at a meter and dropped a couple tokens.
there was no punk rock, or hip-hop, or freaks, or bouncers
checking identity,
and all of the shops were closed.
all i wanted was a slice of pizza and some coke,
but i settled for smoke as I strolled down the ghost town
metropolis.
the “no cruising” signs seemed ironic as fliers were
promoted by the wind,
and the traffic lights didn’t seem to change from being red,
as i noticed my watch was broken.
i imagined an anti-social person in paradise,
but i was as lonely as a drunken bum begging for change.
i loved the sight of graffiti along the vacant buildings as
a hungry dog walked by,
it was my best friend for the moment.
so i walked back to my parked car to realize the time on the
meter was expired.
i should have paid attention to those fliers.
our rainbow
i'll speak a thousand words until you notice the picture
that i'm painting,
until i'm arrested for my so called vandalism.
by the time your ear canal is my rainbow,
i'll take the fame and blame the rain until you recognize
their floods.
at least i'll be out of the rain in their confines to write
notes to you consisting of thousands of words,
and i hope you'll see me in my lines.
i hope you'll hear my voice in the ink and remember why i'm
here,
for you.
so i hope you'll wait for me because there is no way to
escape this place,
i don't like it here in their confines,
i was only trying to paint...
nightmares
i want to sleep this one off,
and bury my thoughts across subconscious plots of lost
reality,
but it’s not my fault a tainted pillow is rotting my
mentality.
while sweat from intense images cools the heat between my
sheets,
misconceptions of truth are normalizing without morality.
i’m imitating others for the sake of self-expression,
in fantasy a land and i’m obsessed with other people’s
possessions.
i’m redeeming my self esteem cashing in blank checks of
self-perception.
i’m signing agreements with demons,
under vanilla skies raining chocolate covered diseases,
i’m lucid dreaming in a molded framework valued upon a
triangular shaped pattern.
i’m inspired by magazines, radios, televisions, and actors,
roles of models, rock stars, and rappers.
i’m sleeping.
while sheep keep leaping over facts of the matter,
my greasy hands keep trying to climb the ladder,
but i keep missing steps,
turning and tossing away self esteem,
awakening to the opposite side of the right,
from a cycle of bad dreams.
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