Lonely In L.A.

I am stealing this title from some random aspiring writer out there that has a movie called this. Just reflecting on living next to this city and all that comes with that.

I don’t dismiss the aching
loneliness, the part of you
that gets missed and longed
for by the crowd passing by,
connection deep down,
upside of the frown searching
around me now, penniless is
this absent hapless journey
fortune to fame down the LA
freeway, nothing free in this

town anyway, lonely in LA is what everyone is living anyway,
fame, fortune and the journey of getting there but what truly satisfies
never lies and is hidden from those smitten upon this American Dream,
this endless gold rush of ambition to line the city’s intuition, down
the freeway it goes anyway—all day and everyday it races underneath
me and these veins spill it out indeed—I am in need—help me succeed

in this city that never sleeps or blinks until darkness prevails through
the camera lens—Mulholland is a column I write about, I reflect
upon, but this drug of dreams that smokes me clean could maybe
never evaporate from me, rather I would be the one caught in thin
air without worry or care—so I drive and stay steady, lonely it may
be to be in this world known city—but it will take something from me,
even if I don’t give back to it

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