L.A. grins wide, but its eyes deceive. Botox paralysis. There's a beauty inherent in the region, but the personality spins upon facade. Los Angeles cracks your rib while kissing your cheek. It chokes you with promise. And it lulls you with snapshot burger stands called, "Roger's Famous Grill," or, "Wanda Burger, Home of Wanda's Juicy Flipper."
Everybody hates you in L.A. Unless you are useful to them, then they just adore you. Until you are no longer useful to them, then they hate you again. People hang around to be scene/not seen.
"Look at me. Look at me. Look at me... What the fuck are you looking at?"
Sweet, bipolar Los Angeles. Stay smoggy, lover.
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