A perverted city
Whose occupants
Unseats the natural order
Wonderful city of mysteries
Where truth smells martyr
And falsehood wallow in legitimatecy

A *****
Where sodomites *******
We found solace in our deeds
But the opportunity of the second phase eludes us

Skulls as Cups
Bloods as wines
Our existence grace dwindle
We never got to understand
The temporality of the temporal

Our city,
The euphoriant
Which makes the ticket of empyrean
Slipped away from our palms
In the temporal space
We will rest but not in peace
Because we are sodomites


By

Michael A Lawson