I know you
you low b*st*rd,
opportunistic
sifter of rubbish bins
and refuse heaps,
thief of opportunity,
pustule creeping
the thin veneer
of social acceptability.
With no sense
of moral conscience
in your wretched grasping
you ooze
like the presence
of a suppurating sore,
amoral and avaricious,
infected and infectious.
Keep the f**king phone
you stole from me,
I hope it sells you
down deviant sh*t-creek
to its lowest bidder.
© 10 May 2007, I.D. Carswell
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