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,
WE WERE BORN!
Agitation of hands. Strength of words. 
I love poems that start with “word IS a”
life is a concrete sex embrace
nice.
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.
Thanks kim.
But NO!
Don’t listen to yourself,
for all our sakes