Los Angeles is an international space race with your greatest raunchy, shocking hits in every street corner. Despite ze lack of street lights, it unfolds a billion pixels screaming into your eyes, bursting inside of your belly until you are able to devour its subliminal ties with gang streets and road street kiddos. It does not speak about the bare backed people who are crawling inside enclosed spaces to make for warm nights when the flashing lights are trying their best to camouflage as stars howling to the sky, making sure its impression won't ever go un-noticed. It is where delusion starts to run forward into the entertainment industries...trapping billionaires with small town giants who want a taste of the "bumping coca" rendezvous. It is the "mixing with the wrong crowd" on the tongue that sizzles in the anticipated forms of which pleasure is buzzing - buzzed, a buzzer ringing as a alarm to inform you of this green - red light rotation.
Houses are flustered with leafy greens - possibly some trash here and there with unknown security guards bellowing with the EDM mixes of tomorrow's trend with its future crown. intricate and spacious - timeless designs that are able to replicate Hong Kong in it's jewelry districts fishing for fast fashion, accommodating those who are constantly chasing fame - a clear convenience for their realities until something starts shattering their glamouristic style.
Table turners is where the lesser known streets lie - upside down hills generating countless of Kafka peeps who look at cockroaches with lesser distain than usual - accepting them as part of a greater wolf pack - caring for them without having to dismember them into the dumpster.
Cockroaches become piles of comfortable california beds rather than buggy mattresses filled with your favorite assortment of diseases.
Death is a rotator, pulling ze commonly curious to the expiration date that tiptoes into near death experiences - their blue light rays shining out of their souls to try to earn the title as a soul surfer.
Soul surfer...cherry - blueberry crowds sheepishly throwing tassels, letting them fall on the floor...where others will lick it out to create another organic scene.
There are packs of every kind. When you look at everything from a distance, it is as if it has been calculated and elaborately placed in junctions and infrastructure that highlight certain spots - riches fill the money bags and blood baths fill the parks.
Light pollution evades its rivers - torpedoes into hills of houses situating its concrete blocks - where video game styles are designed to immerse peeps in this contraption.
There are different blueprints that manuever the tightly spaced, more bubbly areas of Downtown to the greater, eloquent drifts of Beverly Hills...still second guessing where the soul lies in both - if there even is a link between them to beseech each other.
A cooler, crisper Chinatown is with the other blocks of Koreatown as they hang their designs proudly along their chest, reaching for their very last words in history - preserving its honor in upholding the quality of its delicacy and culture. There is some unknown division...separation that interferes-intrudes- disrupts spaces of what we know yo be equality. An explosion can crash into anyone at any second - its millisecond intervals switching up its volts before burning out the scene.
Slinky, wired streets leave you more disoriented, wondering if those blankets or spaces are ever suitable for its next meal or next peaceful residence - where property bestows them. Lots of it seem to be muffled...an intermittent silence stretching out the gums of our brain nerves so our spinal cord does not bend too much to compensate for the lack of approach that follows...constant clinking, clanking surrounds anyone who dares reach - trespasses in silence. If silence was too silent, then every tangible item would gradually evaporate into vapor...particles that wish to become steam produced textile.
Round robin hopeless romantics are trying to fill up empty spaces in their skins...keeping the potato skins between them so as to not disturb the momentary, inner privacy they still think they have before it is ruptured - emerging . Shaken by the surround sound of footprints melodically tapping to mixed beats, holding up a front of challenging the aristocratic who was trying to declare themselves a winner. Winners or losers overtake each other in a game of battleship - still waters watering eyes sunken sinking with the stalls - stalling at the sink , bawling.
Hold still, be still, bestow still birth - steal its hospital mill for a shaky windowsill. Plastic, oval carriages provide a simulated portal for the baby - babying itself in its residential cage...anxious in separation anxiety to escape from the confinement of its detachable body . Bodily harm - if somebody / anybody / their body would not react too far - too intense when their skulls are enveloping each other - these eukaryotic counterparts need to find a way to love - grow - be more .
Be more but look more presentable for the face covered in saran wrap often has a deranged, artistic expression as it launches itself out of a rucksack made bunker
Afterhours switches off lights / bouts of pouts , breathwork breathing charcoal dust under burrowed lungs a burrow for a beaver to pat tap pay out of their branches lunging lurking leeching
...
searching for
home
