Sex and Murder Magazine

By Joseph M. Gant: Poet in Residence

there is revolution
and there is war
inside these veins.
I tear them open, unleash this hell
in rivers red
to not be parted;
I wage this on the faces now
unwitting, slack-jawed fuckers,
stained like guilty panties
shoved in strangers' pockets.
this is war
this is nothing
new.
it rains where victory like hammers
fall and pound,
grinding cocks against the night;
you never knew that this was love.