Theres no Such Plate

in a city where everyone wants something
to be something
a rock star,
actors,
painters,
hair stylist,
promoters,
writers,
we are all such pigs
painted faces
wobbling in feces
rubbing it across our bodies
and decorating ourselves
with shiny sparkly beautiful "things"

ahhhhh

in a city where even the lights have regret
and the tall buildings are covered in bird shit
sidewalks covered in gum
and the gutters run purple with sangria
the bums sleep in the park
and pass the bottle
toothless laughs
and wide eyed grins
blind men with machine guns
not caring who they hit
its perfect

in a city where everyone loves
bukowski
kerouac and thompson
$90 fedoras with $60 ray-bans
faded band shirts
and denim tights
vegans
oh so rail thin
with your eyes sulked in

in a city where either way
the girls will come around here
with your sniffled coke dusted nose
held high in the air
with your loss of words
any other way you'll never be anything
but meat
dense meat
in line for the slaughter
and even the vegans cry out
"why are they looking at us like that?"