Humor of the Divine

You killed us

and not in the way
you kill yr darlings
or yr idols
or the cop in yr head,

but in the way one
kicks a dog or
smothers their date,
a violence pretending to be power
but is really fear,
one that corrupts the soul
and annihilates the victim,
one that seeks to display the ouroboros
in the proudest way possible,
and refract the victims’ being
into a Hell unimagineable
to Dante.

You smothered us,
corrupted us,
drove us to jump soberly
into the inky-black waters of
the Expanse,
the wine-dark River
of the Other Side,
to be pulled down by the stomae
into the Big Empty,

and deign to burn
every biosphere,
every piece of Gaia
to ash,
to prevent anyone else
from ever joining us,
or from showing us
anything other than unfiltered alienation.

So
we took a rainbow
and made it
into a knife,
into pepper spray,
into a bullet,
into a striker-fired pistol,
into a plate carrier and composite armor,
because we wrote your loss
into eternity
with our own blood
and will use yours to replace it,

and on the chance
that God does play
dice with the universe,
we will make sure you come to Hell
with us.