Plane.

He gets on a small private
jet plane:
red carpet
leading up to it;
his own plane
of his own
airline.

He's just
another
fevered ego
in a world
of fevered egos
and confused minds

and media
blistering our
once-pure
thoughts:
now convoluted
by the everyday.

I hope his plane
crashes
and burns
and cooks
his unworthy flesh
into nothingness;

and I hope
the peasant
that lay
his carpet
smiles
at such
unpleasant news.

If I had the money
I'd put such petty trivialities
into the ground
and have people
in plain clothes
look me in the eye
for the unworthy cunt that I am
as they serve me
my ice-cold
cola with ice.