Sex and Murder Magazine

By Joseph M. Gant

Fountain by the riverside
Why'd ya go and turn to dust?
Everything’s a sham.

Come and
Play upon this pipe, Sweet
Prince, you fuck who
Bound me to the
Rock to burn,
Melt,
Hit,
Come to life in stars . . .
To feel the moments
Count the dying down.

Time is money. Money time
So why can’t I afford my watch?
Everything’s a sham.