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 
Reblogged this on mindlovemisery and commented:
The book is really coming along now
great!
Wow! I love the last line.
Thanks Lily!
Very cool poem, and great news about the book…can’t wait!! 🙂
Me either once I submit to Lulu do they send me a copy in the mail first to review before it goes on the market? Thanks so much Helen
They do if you have used their publishing package – I presume they do also if you have done it yourself but I haven’t tried that way. 🙂
nice
Thank you =)
Ok the pic freaked me out, well done on the book 🙂
Thanks it is creepy hehe
Cannot wait for the book! Creepy pic & great poem 🙂
Thanks!
The devil’s hands are at the ends of wanton arms, or maybe they created the wanton arms and empty eyes and the hunger. My Mom used to hit me with the “idle hands are the devil’s playthings” line. Consequently I am about the only one in my family who doesn’t pain, crochet, knit, carve, or etc.
I love your comment so gorgeous, the saying does have a way of sinking in
Powerful!
Thanks =)