The Epidemic

Onward Swine,
To pull my load-

The foul beasts of an ancient land
Long gone,
Long forgotten-
Plaguing the memories of my father,
And his father,
And a million fathers before.

Onward Swine,
Until your wretched stench,
I can bare no more.

Onward Swine,
You punk bitch,
As they say...

Your illness is my promise,
Your demise is my saving grace.

The catcalls and the screeching boar-cries,
The pig hoards and the hoary cockadoodledoodlers
Sit in quiet agony.

Onward Swine,
Pollute our fragile minds,
Until we are no more.