Does God Write Obituaries

My eyes opened;Fell on the clockAt the precise momentPeople were probablyIn the REM stageThe day was foggyTrees wept softlyCaterpillars crawled up my blood streamMy limbs felt the effects of rigor mortisMy mind’s zoetrope spunImages raced in a blurMice foraged rubbish dumpsThe blood curdling cries of catsStabbed the silencePeople-less shadowsLoitered aroundWhere was IOh yes!He would have had a shower by nowAnd clothed himself in fresh white garmentsHis eloquence - The absence of last wordsHis consciousness -The feeding frenzy of piranhasA black hole yawnedAnd God blinked on himTime recoiled like a snapped springAnd thenThe universe  went silentBut somewhere in the cosmosI distinctly heard a blip  My response to an execution by hanging which took place not so long ago.