I sing

+_
The gods spoke but you’re not sure what was said
Tonight was a waste of hair gel, maybe
What do you think the bums think they’re doing?
Using their faces as canvases?

Fight like a tree,
Gather the most ornamental thoughts of the week and
shadowbox them on the shoulder of the 101,
hoping to lock eyes with passerbys at 65mph.

I sing, I
I hit letters with my fingers to avoid the sting,
that alone is worth something.
Buzzsaws in the distance be screeching on shabbat n shit.
Bitch im tryna hit temple.
The world says No Off Days
If you have money, all will smile.
Nature says:
One wrong move and you’re dead.
So I’m taking Temple ave to the art deco
cinema-cum-temple on Pico.

God grants me a sunny parking spot
They sniff me hard at the entrance
So I pull out my silver yarmulke
remove my black sunglasses
And let them see my certain eyes
The woman’s name is Jessica

On stilts, I sing,
made of bullshit, I sing.
Shut up & fight like a tree
Spend days, weeks, life,
circularly,
On cold nights, stay hard,
then thaw out in the 7AM sun
again.

White stars appear in coughs,
reminding you that that certain blue out your window will one day smother you.

The popping of the distant freeway pistons adds theatricality to memories,
the plague that keeps on performing.

My fat feet, sans tan.
Living in Los Angeles,
despite being what I am,
the high and stilted pale man.

I sing, I sing
On stilts made of bullshit
until my branches grow thick, intricate,
pooling antidotal sap in my sleep,
adding fragrance to bros guillotine
the charges; too much fucking.

After morning service,
Jessica and I come face to face in the sunny lobby of the cinema temple
“How'd you like it?”
“Loved every minute. Thank you for letting me in.” 
Jessica laughs, as if stopping me never crossed her mind.
"I can introduce you to people. Go have lunch in one of their homes."
"Oh, I'm just gonna hit Factors Deli...."

Hallelujah, I’m a liar,
On stilts made of
pretending to need zero tenderness,
I sing, save me from this coolness
+_+_