Patch-up

I
Circled and cut
By the streetlight
Somewhere
Down South -
I'm a cat,
You are a mouse;
As long
As this
City stands
I will survive
Sleek pretense,
Pride and lack
Of emotion,
Human kind
Of distortion,
Bodies limp
In embrace,
Urge of keeping
The pace.

II
Bruised and firm
In the passage
Making
The change-
You're out
My range...
Strangled
And shy
At my door
Pictures don't move
Any more;
Should you come
Sound and plain
Down my
Memory lane,
Pick you up
Nice and clean
Thrust you
Into obscene

Re:
Doing sixty splits
Pro-mile
Running out of hope
In style-
Patch-up job
For every burn
Is a mark
Of no-return.