so much is done
for the sake of doing
so much is said
for the sake of
words like bullets
sent flying to the breach
countless footfalls led
to the body of the dead
where then dread executioner
stood to point, and said
you are dead you know
to lifeless lidded grey stone eyes
you are dead you are dead
you need to know you are dead
in cold sardonic sharp-edged glee
a dancing demon with whip tongue
you fell by your own fault
let it be carved upon your tomb

in the yammering glee
the morbid curiosity
that is a life like a traffic accident
none do stop to ask a simple why
to what end this prodding pain
when the dead cannot die again