Your objection is over-ruled, sir;
you're caught in a courtroom
full of blades and blood;
metal tables and endings
too long in the making; spit
spattered across the mirrored silver
worn leather restraints, stained
red. This is a no way out trial;
the knife of justice always finds
the artery, slicing horizontally—
slow peel of skin rolling
on either side, bubbling fountain
of life gurgling from the body
while the pulse, drowning
in the quagmire of death
struggles for life again, and, again.
The tongue, such a tender organ
when removed from its nest of teeth—
pulled, one by one. . .blood-letting sockets
draining through the bruised throat.
How your eyes bulge, tiny red veins
swollen—*pop* out of socket
with one flick of the knife's tip;
dangling by their optical fibers
against each temple; a razor's edge
traveling down the cheek. . .throat. . .chest. . .
nipple, parting like the red sea under Moses
stomach. . .( just deep enough )
abdomen. . .( that you live for now ). . .
penile subincision. . .
meticulous ritual of mutilation—
sublime golden urethrae shower, leaking. . .
I'm sorry; what was that you said
during your interview, laughingly, of course;
All you need is a good horse-fuck'n, Baby?
By the way, the name ain't Baby;
and, I wasn't the secretary. . .
and, you're the latest addition. . .
to our pickled-penis collection.
Why do you think male employees
go missing, once or twice a year?
Particularly those ass-grabbing
chauvinist's wanting a blow job
in the stockroom; ever wonder why
women hold majority in the office?
Welcome to judgement day, Baby;
your sentence has been handed down
by the observers in the jury box—
I'm sure you'll recognize a few. Look!
there's Veronica, winking from the gallery;
you remember groping her in the elevator?
Oh, and that cute intern Stacy is waving!
how you bent her over in the copy room
when she worked late, deciding
she didn't need to wait for marriage
In two weeks to have sex? It was fun—
baiting you like that; making you think
you were in control. Glenda looks nice
in the skirt you like to feel up, doesn't she?
She wanted this job, but had the last—
surely, you remember fuck-anything-
with-a-pussy Ted. . .your jar is just waiting. . .
Oh, yes, right beside his. . .
Welcome to the 'Firm', sir;
where the goal is to rid the world
of arrogant, egotistical pricks like you
one by one. . .
We need to hurry, though—
we have an 8:00 am interview;
seems like a real dick too. . .
perfect for the que.
Written by Ahavati
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