What sense is there
in preaching
for the living..
The pious gospel
of The Fifth One..
by the name of Death?

It’s not as if
it is a message
that their guts
are strong enough
to readily digest.
Without them
puking out
their delicate
insides..

The wretched
stench of fear
surrounds them
as they gasp for air
and choke upon their bile.
What rouses appetite for life
more than the precious
sighting of a still
and rotting corpse?

Alas, it could be you!
Things could be worse..
And if it is,
at least you’re not
The One who’s burdened
with the rosy task
of cleaning up
this mess.

Unless you only count
stray dogs, and vultures,
and the crows
amongst your friends.
In that case, nevermind..
they would be
rather thrilled to rip
your decomposing heart
out of your chest.
You may find comfort
still in knowing..
that as your final
act of love..
for but a day,
you kept them fed.

Memento Mori
may be the most
potent medicine
for making us
feel blessed..
for naught but
that we’re still
alive.

Alas, all that it does
is buy you
just a bit more time.
And when the coins
within thy purse
run out..
the outcome
is the same.

You die.