Walk into the office steaming, sleek oily demon
Stroll into the treasonous boardroom, ignorant of honesty
Pigs prostrate at the trough of profits
Strange prayers offered in the prophetless open-air church of want
Product-hawking moguls parading college-aged odalisques
Swallow back what tastes like vomit
From last night’s tequila cointreau abominate
Slam my fist upon the onyx tabletop, demanding sonnets
I want them still press-hot, want them fast as Sonic.
Alchemisland 
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