No More Parties in L.A.

By Jake Thompson

face to face we meet

you’re gray, passed out on the floor

if you saw what came out of your mouth you’d see to grieving

it smelled like rot

stick your finger in the pot—super hot

second degree burns, skin boiling

you’re crinkling like, 


yeah, coiling

why you mad? you did it to yourself

It’s not an emergency, you’re just a fucking idiot

drop to my knees worried for his safety—he gonna make it safely?

I love you—don’t make me go crazy 

Breathe, dumbass

I love you, don’t make me go crazy


I know you’re sorry. save it. your health is what i’m cravin’– i’m spiraling meanwhile

your seizures is going viral— sirens in the distance faded— 

door busted open like a 


What happened?

words were not spoken— trust was broken 

with the authorities

you can’t die, not in my house! on the floor of my house at this party please—please—

No More Parties in LA

Kanye was right, it’s the only way

he said it right

the only way

stop choking on the air this might be your last day,

don’t get mixed in the fray, stop poppin these before you drop dead

your time is finite

on this downright twisted night it’s midnight

this ain’t the twilight zone you not gonna wake up

that might’ve been your last cup

if you die, detectives be crawling— on the floor next to your


the reeking smell of death at my door knock knock

Death at my door

Hey kid


What happened?

the EMT saw my silent dead eyes— grim and dreary— pupils dilated 

he knew— right

he knew— 

load him up— what did you do? what did he get

From you?

Photo by Myles Krull

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