welcome back!

said God,
crossing his legs drinking a whiskey sour.

everything must be a misunderstanding, he says,

this earth, this sun,
this death that arrives on time to the slightest hand-movement of a clock.

bear with me the witness of death,
have you seen it?

a cold dead body
in a coffin, the eyelids closed looking up at you into the eyes of the living.

our hero's dead bones under gravestones,
our fathers, mothers, grandfathers,
brothers, sisters, victims of murder or suicide,
from violent crime or simply,
from bad luck or disease.

they come alive in our dreams
and in our thoughts,

in their passing they are alive for the living,
a french revolution,
revulsion, pain, laughter,
maybe an ease of pain for the murderer,
a high,
a new-found sense of glory and identity.

God creates, kills, and takes.
the greatest serial killer of them all.

the heads of decapitated blondes roll
from the guillotine.

God laughs drinking his whiskey sour.

God watches, creates, controls, or doesn't exist.

we're all a pile of bones,
dying,
dying

until the sun engulfs the earth
swallows us whole

or until the galaxy collides

or until nuclear war

or until we all just die,
remembering none of it,
knowing none of it-

as our offspring live on

suffering

creating

living

appreciating the art of the past,
creating new art of their own

then dying
to continue the cycle again;
of Death.

rolling heads from the guillotine.
an endless rolling of blonde heads with
the dick-sucking mouths of whores.