Hell by Lynn Marie Gallagher

a burning sensation devours my rotting corpse
though dark and alone I stand
feverishly awaiting for
a drug so intense
we must all consume

it gives considerable pleasure
but imperishable pain
we try to harvest it
throughout our monotonous lives

just to be thrashed by it
repeatedly for the rest of our lives
what is this material hell we seek?

my friend it is no material object
it is nothing but the
melodramatic interpretation of
a feeling called love