Dirty lights travel
In holy unison
Outside the cabin’s window
Dweller’s sleep and twist
In padded seats
And quilted shirts
Its “Hope” east of Hope St.
And tragedy south of Hollywood’s promises
Zombie meth lovers out hunting for some coke and dick
Take their last breaths on the crooked red line
Where Jim Morrison’s ghost haunts the hills of Harper Ave.
Reality tv shows
Of Suicide stars
Perfecting the gram post
Never knowing brunch ended hours ago.
Bottomless Fame east of Sunset plaza
And west of Hollywood’s smashed promises.