I crossed the park into the city
A webbing of steel carcasses
Exalting a skyline smudged
In charcoals and prosaic blues
*
There are no angels in this city
Only precarious thighs
*
I watched each would be consumer
As they weaved their spindly souls
Through red lit alleys and glass facades
Wanton arms leaden,
Dent-less lips liberally greased
*
The Devil suffers no shortage of idle hands
*
Impotent souls yield adroitly to greed
Everyone here wants to be someone else
To evade consequence and intimacy
For their fragment of prefab paradise
*
Empty eyes always hunger
mindlovemisery 