The Howler

Here is the angel of the worlds' desire

Placed on trial

To hide in shrouded alley silhouettes

With cigarette coiled

To strike at passing voices

Dark and suspect

Here is the howling ire



Here is the sacred face of rendezvous

In subway sour

Whose grand delusions prey

Like intellect in lunatic minds

Intent and focused on

The long thin matches

To light the howling fire



No, no, not me

Burn, i don't wanna burn


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