The Weathered Souls

The weathered souls
of the metropolis
scared to twilight
by ghetto distortions
gestapo marxist alley cats
screeching for their lives
broken sun dials
inflate time and
government officials
stand desperate
for their
atom fix.

The weathered souls
of the metropolis
lies boiling next
to willow fantasies
and picket fence horrors
numb Wall St. delinquents
float from Hoboken to Scarsdale
to Pelham to Riverdale
as the Broadway medusas long
for a Moscow midnight.

The weathered soul
of the metropolis
full of arrogant
slum goddesses and
divine teenage graffiti
reflecting time
on desolate bits
of shattered glass
A broken mirror baby
finally takes a stand,
against such hypocrisy
and ignorance
she finds the razor
and cuts her wrist
from left to right.

The weathered soul
of the metropolis
rots from people
too glamorous for their
own good and
is damaged by lucid
epitaphs of apathy
flowery delusions
of the lower east side
sustain.

The weathered soul
of the metropolis
sits lazily in the hands
of it’s creators
and it’s inhabitants
never peaking too far
above the star less skies
that graze it’s horizon

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