A long wait in a line at the butcher‘s

There is a line in the East;

Where murderers are
casually talking to their victims
about last night’s football match
they caught on TV;
where doctors are
standing aside with
the terminally ill;
a line
where lawyers and thieves are
eating the last piece
of moldy bread
out of each others hands;
where businessmen no longer bother
to look for some water
and a shade to sit at
along with the homeless
while the sun reaches
it’s sublimity;

Priests,
Whores,
Teachers
And preachers

They are all waiting
in that line
just to get their heads chopped off
by a blinded butcher
who reads his
favorite Shakespeare’s Sonnets
while beheaded bodies
lay down on
the deserted ground.

And The butcher is happy.

So are the people.