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Unremembered, unlamented, you skulk and crave only pity.
Why should we retch on empty words?
And stomach your deluded home-grown monomania,
When the trail of your failure wends its fetid stench back to you.

The masses like locusts culled.
This depression, your self-made, self-sent designer plague.

Enact the pest ban, when fruitless life bloats unreplete.
Enforce the pest ban, cleanse humankind's stables of pointless meat.

Your witless self-indulgence will end as it began.
With the realisation, that existence terminated is your only lot.

Slave to one and all.
A respiring machine.
Expendable, used then left.
A gangrenous will, starved of purpose.

End a squandered life!
Your birthright expired.
Surrender your place up to higher worth.
No last reprieve, be gone, be dead, be dirt.

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