Am I Not Merciful?

I want to crack your skull open and extract these wicket thoughts about me and my way of life
for them out and flick them off my scapel
while you beg for mercy.

I want to cut open your chest and scrape off the black substance that lines your heart
slice them off and leave them to rot
while you cry out for my forgiveness.

I want to push you down on your knees with your head buried in the sand
stuffed deeply into the Sahara with no air to speak of
while I stand over you and laugh.

I want to put my fingers around your neck and squeeze until your skin turns blue
until your veins become an architect's blueprint
while I bask in the glory of becoming free.