On My Mind

I feel like a bullet-
I could rip through you … with no memory of how I killed you.

Skip through your skin
like pins
so thin-
because you crossed me.

Lost me.

While you scurried around in your LA way-
Big Sunglasses. Worked out Asses.

But you’ve got nothin’ to say?
When shit gets real for this NY girl?

3,000 miles from home feels too far away now.
10 years.
Too many years … gone somehow …

“My father is dying.” “My brothers crying in a mental ward.”
I tell you over coffee, as you text and nod empathetically bored.

If I had a sword I’d mince you, I swear.
I honestly – no longer care.
Because living here is like living in
BOLD FACED SIN.
An all-knowing HELL.
You can’t tell?

That saying “We live for the weather!”
It’s like saying you think you’re better
in some way – than the real problems of the world.

Like homelessness and poverty.
I don’t know but my friends and family
mean more to me than Armani.
Never met the guy.
Credit card debt sky high … for what?

Michael Kors.
Material for whores.
You say “Quality.”
I say “Gluttony.”
You say “Style.”
I say “Let’s talk for awhile.
About what you’re avoiding when you shop?”
STOP!

Forget all these things that take you away from your reality.
No matter how you hate it. You can’t escape it.
In this land of PRETEND.
This town of NO FRIENDS.

IT’S FUCKING LONELY HERE.

Fair weather.
Walking around dressed in pleather …
telling us its leather.

JUST BE YOU.

Do you even know who you are anymore?
Or are you too busy keeping score of what car we drive?
“Did you buy?” or “Do you rent?”
Are you kidding?
I’d live in a fucking TENT.
No status QUO here.

I’m not competing.
It’s not a race.
I’ve already had a taste of the best.
But it was authentic.
In a city so real – you would squeal
like the wicked witch of OZ.

You’d burn to the ground.
Because in my city –
we found it’s enough to just survive.
And make it through the day …
Any way that you can.

Find your friends and lean on them.
Day or Night.
Fight or Flight
If we say it – we do it.
No disappearing acts in the East.

It’s where I call HOME.
I crawl around underground …
In and out of life and death
but at the end of the day
I’ve always been safe in the city of my own.
The city I call Home.
It’s tall, dark and pretty.
My beloved …
New York City.

Photo Credit: jqpubliq via Compfight cc