Dawn licks the serrated edges of the city, threatens to douse the night in lurid illumination. The darkness quivers, and I stir from sleep.
It is the City Of Angels, but only devils brood here. They draw new blood everyday. The dark heart of Los Angeles is seeded by baneful demons. I was an angel once, but the devils breathe smoky strife. Their noxious breath infects the plumbing and pollutes the air. I am here; never immune. The infection spreads from one person to the next. As each betrays the other, our dystopia threads the angst that frisks our bodies, setting in, a virile mix. Love is lost. Another empty vessel emerges into day from the depths of unrequited love.
We are here; Stripped bare, beaten up, hearts set firmly in ice. We drive in heated traffic, scratching at the walls that surround us, at our isolated existence. Anger sets in. It burrows deep into our flesh impregnating our bodies with unhappiness. LA promised. We were moths to the flame, we never had a chance. I am a remnant, left in the fire to burn to ash. Not knowing what to make of the evil devices against us, we hide in protective crevices, which avail nothing. We are bloodied by the dawn.
NO SAINTS IN L.A. 