It instantly hits you, the streets strewn with garbage, tumbleweed grocery bags, in the fake plastic land of milk and honey and broken dreams
"LA" is full of fifteen million fakers on the make
Those who don't work, bleed but don't freeze
It's like being in India with a bad hairdo
Actors are just another dog jumping through a hoop
You could end up being a waiter for a lifetime
How do they stay the course with nothing but bread crumbs for hope
There's nothing else to believe in (that's how the Artist does it).
Poetry from the book {Prometheus Lives} by Artist Troy Richard Thomas
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