Poems again

This time a little angrier

I had to leave LA
The spray of crazy
and luxury sweatpants.
I had to leave LA
The boys with their black faced rolexes 
Their Telsa’s
and Dries Von Noten bomber jackets.
The always 32 crowd.
hunting and stalking the next crop 
of 18 year old midwestern models.

I had to leave LA
Some mangled starlet in a cocktail dress
glued to the step and repeat.
I exist I exist I exist 
she cries desperately into a Vodka Soda Lime.
Lime not Lemon.
Less calories.

I had to leave LA
The “Fraud Artist” 
Daddy is a partner at CAA 
and his friend owns the gallery.
got a studio downtown
you know sketchy downtown.
Cause he can afford to take risks 
with his daddy’s money.
Cause he can choose to be broke and struggle.

I had to leave LA
Cause If I stay here any longer, 
they will find a place for me.
Eventually they find a place for you.
Some sinners seat at that sick table.
The last supper.
LA is everywhere now.
pouring out of the telephone.
shining out of a screen.
I thought I could leave LA.
LA lives in my pocket now.
-A

A group home for ageing artists.
I can’t remember shit, but fucking who cares.
Not you, and your documentary team, and your stupid fucking make up assistant. 
I am in my own perverse gallery now, hung up,
beds upon beds, all lined up for you.
a group home for ageing artists
You loved me when I was young, and full of fuck and vinegar. 
I loved me then too,
But do you love my aging, rotting, body?
my mind a mess of paint and noise?
imagine you, 
treating me, a god who walked among you, 
as a baby with a shit filled diaper.
and sure my diaper is full of shit.
But at least my heart isn't.
and yours will always be,
my soul has been filled with diamonds and uranium.
yours is filled with the contents of my fucking diaper.
The only advantage you hold over me, sonny, is your fucking youth.
and you will lose that too.
a group home for aging artists all filled with versions of you.
-A

the gaping apes throw their shit at the stage.
Filled with the rage of having made nothing and meant nothing 
They throw their petty putrid comments 
under things they love to hate
They are the great unwashed someone’s 
Filled with burger and porn, they masturbate
Their hateful baiting nothings 
spilling across from their screens
They are the tongueless mindless no-ones
They are human beings
We, like them, are human beings.
-A