Without a Rope

Nocturnal Aesthetic Death Card.JPG

Have another cold slice of heart disease, Dad.
Only make sure to smother it in enough butter to see teeth.
Partly Hydrogenated milk fat laid like mortar on starchy carb bricks.
Cement for suffering arteries:
Failing blood tunnels on the verve of collapse,
Holding tsunami’s tide at bay with a broom.
You tiny, weak-willed, stupid greedy man.
You’ll never learn, until the Many-Faced God’s bleached bone hands are finally around
that thick neck, struggling under the weight of such hardheadedness.
Death hands me his card, perched upon your seat back, hunched over you, smirking.
His spirit horse is already pregnant, with another glutton for punishment
waiting to take your place, as it tramples you.
Not-so-Long-John’s parrot
or
Charon’s raven
cawing raucously, as he stands at the prow
Heralding the arrival of another fucking idiot
A few more years with family
less important
than another blissful taste of processed sugar and rendered fat?
Since I’ve been unable to get through
Since I failed to reach inside a loved one,
Yet.
Again.
But no, you go ahead!
I’ll pass you off to my God.
‘A man presents his Father:’
Hell-bent and unbowed
Who bungee-jumped from this wretched mortal coil
without a rope…
© Steve Naisbitt/Blackwater Ink
image: Nocturnal Aesthetic Death Card
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