500 days of summer, although I havent seen it yet, might be a great way to emotionally describe my life I leave behind in LA. A love, a job, a loss for words and a pre-ejaculatory future turned over like a bucket for suffocation and pounding by street urchins with drumsticks.
There's no denying our ability to draw from the hardest experiences in our lives to endure and muster courage. That's what this will be....a recollection of those great times of solidarity amongst my thoughts, breathing songs in lap-lanes, financial shadows reminiscent of beasts with exposed teeth on the wall but smiles in personal firm handshakes, tracing bladed lines amongst wooded dusty breezes, and long dried up tears with white knuckled handprints on Santa Monica sand. Im not sure there's room for relationships in this place; nor energy for anything but sleep and traffic.
This Angelic city has its beauty within the landscape and its burning lifeless peaks. Like black paper cutouts, they swim with the moon's liquid flashy spikes. Working relationships become labored efforts to understand whether or not the counterparty sees the benefit. Just being friends couldn't cut the smog we'd breathe together. Written words of thanks and hugs bared for hooded capsules we'd wrap ourselves in afterward; that unnecessary protection confuses me for individuality doesn't take that much effort. Everyone's time is important.
Somehow the red that creeped down the walls of glass strewn to the sky would make up for wasted heartbeats; it captured meaning beyond every single minute dreamt of her with someone else. Nightime sky's ablaze spoke my mind in frustration, screaming beauty at the night like "fuck you, I'm leaving this place like I came, with the brightest intentions."
Every city has its nooks of invite and clarity; like cherry lipstick and a short skirt on a pale passerby. Opportunities present themselves with ironic timing and only when in drastic need. Upon threat, moves shake themselves from pockets as only a convulsing dance could've summoned from what was supposedly sewn shut. I guess action sprouts via revived consciences and by feeling bad for the desperate. It'll be sometime before I can focus on the positive, like anything in life for us pessimists. Damn us for trying positivity when the negative happens and we're emotionally unprepared. What's the loss for expecting the worst?
It was sideways travel...chugging in place at the red light as if it's doing something before you begin again. Trust me, your heart can handle rhythmic adjustments as long as your head leads the way. For me, my head's finally leading me back to NY, and so I go......chugging, to a place where summer minds and their immature and material desires, do in fact end.
...........I'd beg reality to come find me, except it was never anything but.