My Home

All my friends live in studio apartments in Hollywood.

They all have used couches.

And Instagam accounts.

And gym memberships

And empty fridges

And nowhere jobs

For nowhere dreams

They were sold by nowhere men

Who took their nowhere innocence

And auctioned it off to the nowhere God.

Above us all in the Hills, you see.

The nowhere gods and goddess and their un-fun play.

All day and night on our 21st century Olympus.

Our gods. We worship. They play.

We sing. We dance. They be merry.

We work. We toil. They eat. They drink.

We are not alone at night in our studio apartments.

We have the booze

And the music

And the poetry.

And the TV.

About heathencomehome

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