makeshift lassos

i cannot define
the soulshudder
in this sphere
of mental commissioned
decommiseration

the city is quiet
still slumbering
in manic undertones
a brief respite from
monolithic misery

the line at the tapatia
stretches around
the corner of the building
as birds peek out
from the topiary tenements

this ghost town
with phantom flames
teasing one last
flaccid orgasmic release
from prostated ignominy

it is as familiar
as the back
of a mother’s hand
across the indecent
cheek of innocent confusion

feeling this contentment
after so long
wrangling in chaos
with emotional nooses
as makeshift lassos

still, i cannot define
the soulshudder
as her laughter
fills my heart
with promises of fire

i never feared the flame
even as it
caressed the torn sense
of selfless sacrifice
defining a piteous fool

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