An ode to a former boss

(unearthed from the deep recesses of a formal email account...hahaha hate can be such an inspiration)


He speaks with an air of indifference, 
his force field to mask a grave lack of intelligence, 
or better yet, an undeniable absence.

He walks the slippery surface of irrelevant existence,
He is the immaterial, the out-of-context, the joke,
The subject of malicious gossip, 
the object of unfathomable hate.

He acts out of personal interest,
His praises to others: fabricated, feigned, forced,
for the only one whom he thinks deserves accolades, 
is his sorry self.

“I am an ex-Intel bitch” is embedded in his forehead.

“I am the epitome of asshole-ness” is etched in his soul.