Kamikaze

A pillow stained you choose to place your head
He’s rooting through to take what he desires
The human traffic jams upon the bed
Enslaved by all the misery he sires
Adrenaline has slung you on his hook
A player but his game is not for fun
Naive or just as stupid as you look
Unsavoury the hand upon your gun
You’re rushing forward want to play roulette
You crave the bullet speeding through the heart
The route of lust no destination yet
Your intellect wont stave your pang to start
This kamikaze love’s no instant thrill
He maims his prey but rarely will he kill

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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