W.A.S.P.

Fatally you are unearthed.
Poisoned compostings give vent to the scent
Of unwashed flesh

The thuggish largess of a ceremony.
It is yours. You with the piggy pink eyes
Who must miss-weigh each day

On the same tired scales.
The same suffocations worn single file
Discover you reduced

To your trademarks - this loveless grunt,
That punch-drunk smile.
Bellies basted, your eggy belch

Clouds the Costas. Piss
Fills the trough till you roll there,
Rubble from the diamond mine.

So don't even try to run a bridle
Around my fury. This vengeance
Thrills me. Blinds me to all but one view.

That of you, hung up,
Split like a pig, left to drip
With the tidy rip of hooks.