No communion:
Societal disconnect.
Picture this 'prophets':
Outskirts of the city
Where lost, ragged
Angels weep. They are searching
Desperately for
Another fix in the fevered
Glands of the night. These
Wastelands resemble lunar
Terrains. They are not
Fit for humankind: only
For wild dogs that prowl
And howl at a bloodshot moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem