Entry 44

My sex drive crashed, man.

The wheel slipped
And I met a red light; 
After a hard break.

Silver ‘round black,
Dripping ruby dust
On scattered diamonds.

Beauty was born from 
The death-swept slate sculpture of 
My final thrust,
Into the sepulcher.

Without carnal idolatry
I encountered other objects of obsession:

Art replaced my fascination with fornication.

Love has currency 
But I need cold cab fare
Before another lovely 
Taximan whore kicks me from the vehicle.

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