Poetry from Pascal Lockwood-Villa

Lost in my own city

I can manage to find gold in a cigarette
Bet you didn’t know that, did you?
I’ll teach you how, but you must swear on your hometown
You’ll never have the nerve to tell another soul

Are you ready?
The trick is simple as pie and twice as sweet
First off, be born
You may think you’ve got that one down already
But unless you came here through the wrung-out sorrow of you father blasting into your
mother’s womb
You’d be mistaken

Learn everything this world has to offer, quickly as you can
Don’t bother fact-checking, you know your friends in big media aren’t here to lie to you
Find out the truth
You feel that don’t you?

The loss of every direction you thought you new
But its still somehow beautiful outside
Now go buy that first cigarette
You can thank me later