Aristocrats enjoy execution
so long as the guillotine is gilded.
The blades whirled by good smiths
charging a fortune in pardons for billion-dollar alloys
to crack the spine well
encourage years of craft.
Some dip theirs in caviar
others oil with truffles or limited cologne.
Some are engraved
with tiny verse
so the flesh shaved
is instantly impressed
with a truth
or something.
It doesn’t make much goddamn
sense to me
and anyway
I'm just here for the blood.
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