Expatriots await the nights in Kuwait
where the dingoes and dominoes and salamanders bait
the ladies in purple to their eminent doom
of sleazies and stabbings and babies in womb.
Don't get me wrong,
I enjoy a good time, if friends are around and we got a dime
or two
and a fire for the masses and we're shaking our *****
as if we are actually aware of the outcomes of our actions.
I know we haven't the slightest clue
what a Jesus Christ is, or if it hides under our beds at night
or if it was a Jew.
What's written in books can be written by crooks,
because literacy and knowledge are ******* beautiful
but can give one more confidence than the world has to share,
and the whole theory of Relative Pride falls to pieces when one has more self-efficacy than ability
and the children with their sweet little ideas and purity are not humble but fall victim to humility.
So what's in a name?
Letters, vowels, consonants and connotations
traffic tickets, family vacations
****** and protests (though not necessarily related)
teenage boys and ***** minds and those who have masturbated.
But who hasn't?
Those without names, or faces
or honesty or hands
probably have their members ******* in steel-spiked rubber bands.
I'll see you again in retox dehibilitation
and we can converse and create
while under the crutch of sedation.

More pretty little problems,
How exciting.
Isn't it bittersweet,
How it's so inviting?

Again and again,
You'll never escape,
Just go get your fix.
You'll be in good shape.

Shrouded by a jacket (it was blue and plaid)
I tripped over myself and glanced around but nothing was said
I remember it clearly: a flash of lime green and brown hair
I spun around in shock-wondering if he was still there
I stood there for a minute and watched him walk away
I wanted to run after him that day
But I just kept walking and look where we are now
Still getting lost among the crowds
But when I picked up my phone he replied
That wouldn't happen this time

I walked inside the gym and scanned the crowds on the floor
Not that I knew what I was looking for
I texted for him to stand up and he said no
So I was searching for an imaginary friend on my own
I walked up awkwardly and he smiled and played with his hands
I didn't know what that meant back then
So I sat down and started to talk and I guess you could say we got along well
But I was turned around watching for someone else

My eyes flitted around in the dark
I bit my lip as the years started
The choice was out in the open:
You or him
But I was young and stupid (still am)
And I walked away with blood on my hands
Leaving song lyrics hanging in the silence
And the stifled sound of my crying
And I listened to "Stay" over and over again
You said please understand
But I didn't
And you still left

I remember my shaking hands as I walked up his drive way
But when he opened the door with a smile everything melted away
And he said I looked nice but I didn't know what to say
So I croaked out something like "you do too"
Good God, his eyes were so blue
And I remember dancing and laughing about a girl we both knew
And there were the lights
They seemed to be so bright
And in that moment everything was right
The next morning I buried it away in a box
It's still there-wouldn't want it to get lost
Detox just to retox

"Two" you said when they asked how many
I want to say it was a Wednesday
And I was wearing paint splattered pants
And you were wearing a Fall Out Boy shirt that I want
Along with plaid that totally didn't match
He was SUCH a good catch
When we sat down I scanned the menu like a cheap date
And spilled water all over myself and hoped he didn't see my face
(I don't think he did)
It was just a little awkward at first
But I suppose it could've been worse
It's not like it was a date, after all
So I held my head high and stood tall
And ordered the exact same thing he did

It was Halloween the last time I saw you
And I was wearing your shirt
And it smelled like you and musty basement
We had just gotten home when you walked in
And the whole night kind of seemed wasted
We played a game, I think
But it's not like it mattered who won
We were kind of in our own little world
And I was hoping you wouldn't go home
We all piled on each other to watch a movie
And I told you not to sing
All we did was talk the whole time
Not that it meant anything
I was a little to comfortable in your arms
And wanted you to hold me tighter
When the lights flickered down
I thought I might fall asleep and that would've been alright
We talked until about 2 am that night
Not that I minded at all
I think I missed you a little too much
And I tripped and started to fall

I’m messed up,
and spaced out,
going insane,
but still down,

out on the town,
having the time of my life,
which is okay I guess because this is Hollywood,
where you’re supposed to look like you’re having a great time,

even when you’re depressed under duress,
and dictated by a constant lingering stress,

what a mess we’ve made,
hearts broke as fck but pockets completely paid,

I’ll give an example of something from today,

woke up at Wi Spa,
in Downtown LA,
two girls one on each side of me,
both of them beautiful babes,

but I wasn’t fazed,
faded sure,
but not fazed,
that’s for sure,

resting right there where that thin shaded grey line blurs,
the line blurs the lions surge,
because when everyday feels like a holiday,
everybody around you wants to splurge,

meanwhile all I want to do is purge...

Why do I feel just as high when I DeTox,
as I do when I ReTox?

Feeling as Emo as a teenaged Elmo,
a walking Paradox walking in a pair of Docs,
lost what I found then found I was lost,
or maybe it's the other way around I don't know I forgot.

Either way,
every day feels like a holiday,
and everyone acts so generous around me even the degenerates,
because I'm still down messed up spaced out and insane,

just sayin',

like when,

I asked someone for a drag of his cigarette,
and he instantly bought me a whole pack,
and I don’t usually smoke or do blow,
but I’ve been told it’s only gay if you push back,

I did every line and smoked the whole pack.

Now where were we at?

Oh yeah yeah yeah,
I remember now,
we were talking about being messed up,
spaced out going insane but still down,

insane and out on the town,
going HAM what the Hell man,
on Hollywood Blvd. last night in a Porsche of course,
when we ran into Cory Feldman,

I didn’t know him as an actor,
just knew him as familiar,
because we’ve partied together at parties,
where we did whatever with whoever,

where,
were we again,
again I’ve forgotten and gotten lost in,
this Story That Never Ends,

or did I mean this Never Ending Story,

I don’t know anymore I’m not Falcor so don’t ask me,
I don’t have the answers and your questions are boring,

please no questions and no answers.

Not into people who unknowingly pretend that they’re into you,
constantly mentioning questions,
that contain unintentional,
still potentially injurious intentions,

don't want an invasive interview I want honest communications.

I’m not here to make you feel more important,
I’m not here to validate your life for you,
I’m not Valet I don’t have the keys to your heart,
and I don’t want my attitude misconstrued,

so in the name of clarity allow me to please remind you,

I’m messed up spaced out going insane but still down,

out on the town,
having the time of my life,
which is okay I guess because this is Hollywood,
where you’re supposed to look like you’re having a great time,

even when you’re depressed under duress,
and dictated by a constant lingering stress,

what a mess we’ve made,
hearts broke as fck but pockets completely paid...

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

I, the capitalist war machine,
I, the magnificent static,
I, the bomb shelter peace,
I, the twenty four hour news cycle, the rise, the relapse, the detox, the retox, the crucifixion, the rebirth, the disgrace, the continuation of the theme repeating ad nausea towards annihilation,
I, the caged ******,
I, the black boy bleeding to death,
I, the rioters in the street,
I, the Wall Street gallows,
I, the old money militia,
I, the yuppie **** appropriating culture from the scraps of endless genocide,
I, the shock value mockeries of conventional moralities dumbed down to be digested,
I, the blood spilled on sacrificial altars on holy ground,
I, the celestial body ignored, passing back and forth endlessly through peripheral visions,
I, the madman howling at the moon for some ******* peace and quiet
I, the pill popping siren choking on adoration,
I, the mass hallucination shared and reshared till it loses all meaning,
I, the Pantheon collapsed,
The downfall broadcast,
The television unplugged and still playing,
I, the crushing realization,
The devastating grip of ruinous apathy,
The movement monetized,
The victory shallow,
I have built this tomb with my own hands,
I have changed the channel one too many times,
I have let this consume me
I am guilty
You are no better
Lie still
Let it consume you