If Caligula was my bitch

 
 
 
I would demand him
to say he was godless
 
make him run beside my chariot  
for hours on a leash slowly stripping
away his toga, watching members  
of the senate spill wine unable to  
control their contagious laughter
 
i'd privately tease him by prophesying
Nero will be better in years to come,
 
watch him cry as he tastes his own flesh  
cooked underneath a burning Capri sun,
hush his constant howling by reminding
him nobody wishes a baby tyrant to  
be the face and figure of Rome
 
I'd claim his throat belongs to my word,
how one word falling from lips could
turn his adams apple into trillions  
of tiny paper cut-outs,
 
i'd raise his head up  
on my best platter  
towards the sun  
 
as people hold out
their open palms  
 
screaming  
Vivo.