by Nick Gisburne
His tunnels feed a sewer of disease,
Experimental science tipped away.
Regurgitated tissues taint the seas,
The pieces of participants, his prey.
With every study, every failed attempt,
With every bleeding innocent he steals,
Ambition, steeped in murderous contempt,
Is deaf to their delirious appeals.
He barely half-remembers what he needs
To conquer his abominable quest.
Today he grinds fermented, toxic seeds,
Implanted in a screaming victim’s chest.
He damns the imperfection, but their tea
Reminds him of the taste of KFC.
