Suck dog water, you itchy scum.
I can’t believe your kind have survived this long.
You probably hold not a clue how reviled you are,
cushioned in your own delusion by a skull thick with illusion.
I hope you choke.
You fucking toad.
You won’t get away with your hateful game too long.
The wolves will hunt you down, make no mistake.
How you made it this far, you tainted scrap of humanity, I haven’t a clue.
Shouldn’t you have died off with the seven-legged mud crabs and trilobites?
You’re worse than malaria.
Exile would be too kind.
What you deserve is incineration.
Death by massive fire-blasting until your hair crisps and skin curdles.
Your blackened crust will feed the urchins,
and any fortune you and your wretched ilk
will sink into the murky mire of obscurity.
When each of you swine meet your demises, I will dance and sing.