For whom do we blame when we finally admit that the Devil is dead

and that God stopped caring after all.

There is no fire laden pit in which the cackle of a billion tortured lives

are heard screaming in agony and the taste of lingering sulphur

is a dietary supplement in which

to atone for the lack of space provided by a misdirected deed,

the ramblings of a sad lonely woman or the heresy of the scheming miser.

The Devil is dead…

he died a brutal death, in agony and with his forked tongue