Prose written when I was having a cranky moment about a truly awful person.Why does the best prose happen when I’m cross?

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I’ve never seen such skin before

The word to describe it is crenelation

In cases like your people say ‘nice personality’

Sadly for you this just isn’t the case

I can judge this book by that cover

Your looks are well correlated to your insides

Your face is the window of your soul

Showing the broken, the rotten and the stink

The feeling I get when I see you

Is slightly sick discomfort

It has nothing do to with your body either

The entire package is repulsive

Typhoid Mary with the deadly fingers

Going house to house in search of your own cure

Poisoning everything you touch

Leaving behind a wake of needless suffering

Heedless to the cries and screams you caused

Claiming yourself the victim of your crimes