Burnt out heroes
in amongst the burning plans of villains
Fearless- in amongst trying to be like your heroes
within comic feelings. Sounds comic; chiefly
read in pages of a lifestyle. Naked eye strips,
greyish looks of cloud lids filled with rain in my
eyes

Heaven is crying every night, a thousand
angels in a stormy night
Reminiscing fallen angels from that hole
in the sky. Human are too fallen; those lost
of conduct or virtue- a hole in their soul's closet
the devil that urge you. Church who; probed
questions of your faith to search you.
As I refer to you being trapped in your mind
off it's strict curfew

Even as a role model plays a perfect smile
there's still an act to keep thoroughly
But in that case when fans aren't around,
their face peels away the skins of lie
No need to practice your lines
no need to pretend to be a star out of Hollywood
like light's shine. Shyly acting free!
The end of the scene, a role model no longer blind
when they're now unseen

Skin grey
un rubbed emotions, and cracking sounds
drawing river lines on the skins display
All applauds are gone; just you clapping by
yourself under the clap of thunderstorms
Still feeling empty, even with the person you
brought home, bought home- to come and practice
those secrets tabs of your chrome

At times trying to be anti pessimistic
anti climatic, of all you've achieved and all
those childhood wishes
Swimming with the ugly fishes; selfish needs
you couldn't have had before
It's the role models, having crowds dancing
to their tune, all pressing their head on the floor
Can't mask a flaw, only disguising it until
it all comes out in the world

No role models left,
just the ashes of their dead careers and
immediate deaths. O yes, success tickles
the ears—as common sense becomes so deaf
All is grey, grey is the colour of my heroes,
forgetting they all started as imperfect people

T he memories always play back to haunt me.

R ummaging through a stack of vinyl records at Amoeba.

A nxiety finds its favorite record to play, speed up my heart rate... start the mosh pit.

U nderneath that pit, a prisoner sits.

M ay there come a day when freedom wins.

A nd until that day comes let the record play.

Travis scotts concert was 100% a satanic soul harvest. He sent those souls to another dimension.
Think I'm stretching? READ ALL THE WAY THROUGH.
First off. He called his event a "festival".  The definition of a festival is a feast. Did you see a large amount of food?
Or did you see a feast of souls?
His stage was the symbol for alchemy.  The egyptian ankh. The Egyptian ankh has to do with life. Because the wealthy know when you die and when you are born, you create a ripple in time and space for your soul to come and go. The best way to describe it is like a pool. Imagine you are about to jump into your local swimming pool. The water will break your entry and you will safely hit the bottom. Now. Imagine there is a person at every single part of the edge and you all jump in at the same time. Now you've got a problem. Soul harvesting is the same way. When you die your soul creates a ripple and it can safely leave. But. When you have a bunch of people dying in the same spot the spiritual realm becomes stressed in that location due to the high amounts of energy our souls resonate as they are leaving and entering the in between of this realm and other dimensions.  Therefore they have created machines that have tapped into the in between to ****** your soul. Who gets it and where it goes?  Other things are possible as well. Like the exchange of a good soul for whatevers on the other side?. Have you ever heard of cern? The large hydron collider. It's the largest machine in the world. This is NOT knew technology. The Mayan indians knew about this. The egyptians knew about this. THIS IS WITCHCRAFT AT THE HIGHEST DEGREE.
Let me break it down.
Travis Scott is a WITCH. The microphone is his wand. He is a (M.C.) (Master of ceremonies).  
With his wand he uses his voice (frequency) to help bring in the energy needed to open the portal. He brings a crowd of 50 to 70 thousand people who are generating IMMENSE amounts of energy into a low vibration. Love is the highest. Aggression is the lowest.
Then the design of his stage along with the lights become the sigil to help open the portal. Remember his stage was the symbol for alchemy?
YOU can't see the portal. You just see a fancy light show.
But those who are dying and their souls are separating from their bodies can.
The only way a living person MAY see through the portal is if they had taken an Elixir like Ayahuasca.
Do you ever wonder why all these "rappers" want to date the highest ranking Arminian witch family Kardashians?
Could it be because they are witches?

They do these kind of rituals behind closed doors all the time. What you saw was them coming out in the open.
The goal for you is to pass on and move to a higher dimension. You are drawn to the heavens because that's where you came from.
When you start gaining wealth, you start the search for immortality. Wealth is a drug that most refuse to part with.  So this is where satanism comes in. There's a theory of  reincarnation if you can create enough negative energy for yourself, you can weigh your soul back down. This is where the technology of transferring your consciousness back into another avatar has its place.
You can see why we are at a cross roads of transhumanism and luciferienism.
Some believe the elites WERE once humans and during the days of Atlantis that changed. Their technology hit a point they no longer needed human bodies. And they became the pinnacle of Transhuman. But no longer human. Something else. Maybe this is what "sanat kumara" is? A.K.A. Satan.

Sophisticated elegance
Pornographic decadence
Psychedelic trip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Hot spots undiscovered
History recovered
Dig in and take a dip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Darkness in the daytime
Sunlight cleans the slime
It's easier to grip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Tales of olden Hollywood
Hangers on and hoods
Changing what is hip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Sophisticated Decadence
Pornographic Elegance
The Chateau for a nip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Are they strictly local?
I wonder what, of her inspirations,
she’s seeking through the Sun

Whatever it is,
It is something
I walk away again.
Hollywood again.

He leaps down unto the glossy sheen
arms out back straight chin raised

No.

But I’ve been trying.
Or, softly pirouetting Fred Astaire
Tuxedo’d tails like bird’s wings
hang low on the body
Cuz I’ve been trying.
In turn, she’s losing the Sun.

It rests like a clear bubble
Large, between.
Amorphous.
It is,
in as much as
It isn’t.

Is she done yet?
I saunter over.

No.

Where you from?
The phone rests precariously
On the metallic lawnchair,
filming.
I have to move my seat.
LOUD is always the giveaway

What I’ve just realised is that
I have never heard my neighbour laugh.
Criticisms anchor,
Bewildering.

I wonder does
she bounce awake,
up and into the early morning
tap dancing?

An off-key bleat pierces
before even the coffee beans
can be ground down

For a long time I look out the window
standing in the place of
any and all distractions.
Pinned to the wall.

Can you ever leave Hollywood?
But, here I am again!
Splat.
I mean, really?
Since I was 17!

No.

She’s practicing her lines to the
Atmosphere.
Thrashing, like so.
Suggesting, rather.

She,
Seated in the other, resorts to
Choreography.

There she is,
Transfixing.

Again,
another one.

You know what they want right?
Just another young girl in a dress too tight
Thin as a rail, with long flowing hair
Smile on her face, like she has not a care
Shoes she can't walk in, no man would try
Face so frozen by Botox, she can't even cry
And if she sticks to her part, she might do just fine
If she's willing to *****, she can actually dine
They'll chew up her soul and spit out the rest
Wouldn't you know, they took the part she liked best
But that's okay, anything to be a star
Anything that is, except being who you are

Everyones the protagonist
to their deceptive movie life
made-up delusional illusions
to distract us from the strife.
Delude ourselves into
the minds- 'Hollywood'
hallucinating surrealism
numb & evasive to reality
& the creeping white noise of realism.
We lose track of fleeting memories
as we chase feign & shallow visions,
end up reviling our true form
& make some of the worst decisions.
Are we humour to the gods?
& ideals to the slaves of hell
Are you living in your minds- 'Hollywood'-
       Or are you living your reality well?

The only thing I learned
In this ocean of stars
Is that I can drown anywhere

Meticulously maintaining
Impossibly feigned nonchalance,
Toying the cigarette ever so slightly
In her fingers -- careful so not
To appear as too calculated

The pariahs parade the dancefloor,
Shades of ignominy culminating in a
Prismatic rainbow, heightened by
The stale odor of ***** and body heat

Still, she stays in her perch like a silent sphynx
Waiting -- watching --
Aimlessly, but with direction, such
Carefree flamboyance below her,
A stoop to which she’d never deign

And so she watches, resigned
To fate, as much a fixture in the joint
As the gilded barstools --
The closest she can come to confronting
The fact that she is no different
Than any of the rest