Confession of a Killer's Killer

I killed a killer this morning! I gorged his eyes out with my naked hands Counted his teeth one by one Like pebbles on a plastic platter; Belched after I drunk his cold blood In a home-made cheap mug; Used a rusty pen knife To separate his throat From his now-pulp body; Then tore his heart from its place And replaced it with a rough piece of dry log! I then threw what remained of him In a gutter where street beggars Empty the pains of their dirty bladders; It was the most rewarding experience. The after-taste lingered on my conscience Like quinine on tongue. But there was more relief than grief More Mother Theresa than Hitler. For then it all came to me Like beer coming to a dry throat How they must feel when they Kill us I confess that I felt dope When I killed a killer!