Holden goes to Hollywood

Holden goes to Hollywood Accepts the challenge To resist the whoredom and magic And pursue a deadly dream

Fantasy as real as reality Each whisp a truncated simulacrum A walk down Sunset A stroll through skid row The cold brew percolates and freezes

And it’s a bunch of cockroaches battling for the uranium chalice And a hoard of spiders trying to spin their web as one And a nest of baby birds pushing their elders over the edge And a crew of men wetting their dicks without the consequences

Culver City fireball flames Tear drop tattoos Impromptu jam Alone and trapped writing the next play in his head

Mr. C befriends the actors and eats at their restaurants Caffeine buzz takes him to the poetry slam

The age of the jazz revival Their cigarettes are sold by the crop Moldy rejects shipped to the sandwiches of the states

Holden falls ill to the sickness that resides here He fervors for the fame Fueled by the substance en masse New jazz beat replaces his heart He hearkens for the club singer and poet Camps out on her couch and Smokes her flower blouse

And it’s the cockroach king, radioactive And it’s the silken screen shit out by those spiders And it’s the large hawk that won the royale And it’s those men wetting their heads, drowning themselves

The worms pile up like your dead sister’s failures Phoebe never cared much for asexual lovers But you still tried to stop her from falling off the cliff You still tried to catch her with your mitt Covered in dead poets Written in your dead brother’s script

It took seven years but he’s a new man now Cell by cell, nothing remains His soft heart is hard His doe eyes are glassy and black His intrepid spirit is molded to the silver tapestry

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