the chorus
of chitinous
crickets
call out in
a distorted
complexity
of morse code
static bursts
vibrating in
place as they
cry out for
a momentary
connection
in an eternity
of silent
survivalist
sensibilities.

no different
from a fool
seeking sunrise
with steaming
coffee and
an aching heart
tapping out
pedantic verse
spilling out
technicolors
heartspasms to
drown the world
in love tinged
longing from
a sage couch
situated somewhere
just south of hell.

perhaps my heart
cannot find the
correct pitch to
attract anyone
seeking more than
an instantaneous
instance as muse
before leaving
an irradiated wake
a desolated land
of unreciprocated
painblossoms
rows of crooked
headstones in the
shape of hearts
lining the highways
as the crickets
sing throughout
the lonely night.