We find a little viciousness in every breathing thing,
WrIthIng in exasperated pain,
Somehow living without a brain
And eating without a face.

Where does this carnivorous flower bloom?
In fleshy, wheezing caverns,
Whispering of humanity and all its boons.

Oh, hideous beast,
Stinking of singed hair and ****** moons,
Lay under the blade of my knife,
And let me vanquish the despised you -

Once the warring bodies fall silent,
Quivering in anticipatory delight,
Will the thrashing corpses relax under the vultures' blackened eyes.