your hand grips
mine
in the desert night
& I have to
count
how many times
you've led me
down this
line

the law need not
banish you,
love
as you, yourself
have done

but the fickle
rain
& this sordid game
can't wash what
has
become

oh, anything of nothing
first create

why must you scavenge
all my love
& pay me back with
hate?

the late season tortures
with cold breath
& kisses weary
bones

wherefore art thou,
cast to
hell's depth,
who slew my weakened
soul?


I'll keep your
grip
as you keep mine
along our sullied
stroll


but I've half a
mind
to prove how
time
can truly take its
toll