So Much Better Than Radio

Graphic

01/21/16

4:40 a.m.
I wake crying from the scene -
An intergalactic death,
A soul from a body freed.
Crimes committed upon him,
Upon others he did not commit.
But the galaxy bent to see him bleed,
He pleaded the allowance
Of his last breath spent -
Wanting to live no more.
Be the means and exit medieval and arcane,
I the executioner
Allowed him study
Of the bit and gouging spade.
I made sure they be new and sharp
Before strapping him in the chair.
Not even removing his lovely blonde hair,
We all dressed in white
To better show the smears.
I could see his life
Not on a tv
But no less scene-by-scene:
Reared in an orphanage,
Molested in toilets,
Never himself harming another being
Despite knowing naught but harm
His whole life.
Wanting naught but to be free -
He was so beautiful
Entirely.
But the grinning man and woman
With teeth a-gnash
Proclaimed his guilt
With such panache,
The world tuned in
To watch him go.
One last ride.
So much better than radio.