I am here to bear witness—
I walk in the shadows of stars,
etched in sidewalks, waiting behind sun-bleached curtains.
I feel the holy ache of the muses, the misfits,
who gave their youth like a sacrament,
in a fevered mirage above
Sunset Boulevard.
Studio girls, depraved, sweating champagne,
who melt like burning palms beneath the Hollywood sun,
who are broken and built back in Her image of decadence.
I am love lost.
I echo in the canyons.
I’ve left a hundred times and never really gone.
I am a Daughter of the Wasteland.
