Session

I saw through your soul at first sight,
Soulless soul,
Hollow as mine.
Tiger’s spirit; Judge, jury and executioner,
Rolled into one ball of calm fury.

Seeking me out for my own travesties,
Such is the nature of your calling.
Next on your list,
My penchant for the death dramatis a failing,
At least to you.

Appointment made, counselling the lies,
In each word of deceit sits a truth,
I am as naked to you as you are to me.
Both eluding the authorities,
Failing to offer expected motive.

Motive is desire, nothing more,
Seekers of sanctions and retribution,
Unleashing a fury on the troubling.
We are natural born killers,
Punishing the unworthy.

You try to deny the thrill, justify with just cause,
Whereas I consume my prey in part,
Dress the rest as a side dish for all to see.
I hear your hollow words,
But I listen to the unspoken.

The recorder is switched off, the papers stowed,
I lean forward locking my eyes with yours,
‘Your words are gracious mendacities. I see you.
Renowned for my discretion, speak freely,
As a sheep who addresses the silent priest.

For there is much we have in common,
Baying for the blood of the unrighteous,
Bringing justice where justice fails.
Open yourself to me, offer the truth,
And we shall seek together.’