at last the Lord
he said to me
“you’re on
your own,
I set you free
for Father lays
in morbid
state
His body cold,
His coffin
draped
with the
wings
of seraphim
so there’s
no need
to look for Him”
and heaven locked
the golden gate
to paradise
where mothers wait,
my mansion
just a fancy crate
where flesh
and bone
disintegrate
and, damn…
there’s
little more
to say but
“life is short —
enjoy
the day”








