Life is a concrete sex embrace
wild with stars.

A blind secret,
dark as holes in the sky.
Stiff. Yesterday’s decayed women.

Free from joy and desire;
Almost always love rots men’s hearts
as only it can.
It is the colour of the young.

Pierce me. Bleed me. Moist with your kiss.
Warm. Cold. Think. Kill. Die.

But dazzle my peace,



  1. krkbaker · December 6, 2007

    I love poems that start with “word IS a”
    life is a concrete sex embrace
    the colour of the young…
    this one is really good.
    sorry i haven’t been by, i think i’m telling myself i’m not a writer anymore. yeah, it’s one of those things.

  2. zaphodfreek · December 6, 2007

    Thanks kim.

    But NO!
    Don’t listen to yourself,
    for all our sakes

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