crickets don't chirp in hell
they burn

brighter than the fire
that fuels your scorn

feeding your anger
like cicadas at dawn

takes hold
and suffocate

subjugate spirits
until hearts are torn

love don't come easy
to a cold heart
or a misused
trampled on
abused heart

love is war

unpredictable
from the start

like the urgings of youth
grasping at straws
gasping at yet
another of life's
myriad illusions

lost
in a tabernacle of lies
love tossed aside

like schmatte

as if
God doesn't exist
who am I to love?

I can only die