The Angels

The Angels

Anonymous living, in the folds of society’s skirt.
Charred hopes replaced with ashes,
dead dreams crackle under foot.
Searing lava painted black, float along.
Never mind the busy white noise, soul piercing sirens
Relax.

Passing lonely islands made solely to placate the whims of the filthy rich,
decadent wannabes.
Cruising Sunset Boulevard, some do like it hot.There is something to be said about it, living alone.
Up to no good, smiling away the secrets consumed in a gluttonous rush.
Vegan in public, a meat eating blood sucking insatiable demon in private.
We can do lunch, dine out on gossip.
Botox-ed bitch keep your sex to yourself,
or not.

Here with the Angels, we glide on ruby slippers thinking of home,
excess, success, pick up, let down.
What is your poison of preference?

Guided by the smog-shrouded celestial beings,
our bodies bounce off each other.
Into the night of the day, we gloat with puffed up vanities knowing
that here, in this city
we are safe to be our duplicitous selves.
We are in the company of Angels, their wings outstretched
protecting our fucked up souls.