Wasteland

I have to go back to the land of the lost.
To places of hot air and never-seen frost.
Where tortured and beaten the mundane live lives,
And to the hot climate where treachery thrives.

To jealousy, envy, and festering rage;
To the back-stabbing dramas of this city's stage.
Los Angeles awaits me, a slumbering beast
My hopes and my dreams its delectable feast.