Guillotine

the guillotine stands alone in the square, the pinnacle of pulse.... that drains the heartbeats.... traffic heavy, horns honking, hurrying, hurrying.... trucks and buses puffing clouds of death into the air.... neon signs keeping score. billboards selling the dream, street preachers selling Jesus.... corner whores selling themselves.... in sterile rooms atop the skyscrapers, far from the stink, far from trash strewn in the alleyways like tiny lives forgotten, gum stuck to the shoes..... they gamble with futures, trading hungry mouths without faces; never looking back.... vultures in black suits and ties... winning, winning, or losing it all. while the homeless and the addicts walk the streets below.... looking for something they cant remember.... light dancing on the razor-like blade..... heads from bodies, hearts from souls...... profit from the last heartbeat!