take me down to the paradise city

I pulled another piece from the archives. I wrote this in March of 2008. Enjoy:]

An April sunset paints the sky with a crimson glow.
And the Santa Monica breeze and palm trees hint a promise of paradise.
A promise that masks the street lights - a badge of fame concealing the city's hunger.
"come down and waste away with me"
The seduction of this night cools my hell. My anger. My passion.
I have many names for my rage.
But like a serpent I am shedding this skin.
Leaving behind a life once lived. Loved. But barely remembered.
What have I become?
This confusion wages war in my hear.
My search for answers only unveils my captivation for this place.
This city houses me and all of those like me.
We stare blindly at this painting of paradise -
knowing the visage, understanding the hunger
yet hiding behind our own mask of ignorance.
It seems I've been in metamorphosis for too long.
Should answers take this long to find?
I've forgotten the question; my search has become tiresome.
Archaic. Obsolete.
Too long I have been mesmerized with forgetting.
I feel as though I have been running forever.
Palm trees promise me paradise,
through the evening exhibit of fame.
I am still searching. Still hiding. Still sloughing a day old life.
Exhaustion is familiar to me, but I cannot blink.
I find my sanctity, seclusion and security in the pink, sun kissed skies.