You hosts are almost glad he gate-crashed: see,
How his eyes brighten on the whiskey, how his wit
Tumbles the company like a lightning stroke —
You marvel where he gets his energy from…

But that same instant, here, far underground,
This fusty carcase stirs its shroud and swells.

‘Stop, stop, oh for God’s sake, stop!’ you shriek
As your tears run down, but he goes on and on
Mercilessly till you think your ribs must crack…

While this carcase’s eyes grimace, stitched
In the cramp of an ordeal, and a squeeze of blood
Crawls like scorpions into its hair.

You plead, limp. dangling in his mad voice, till
With a sudden blood-spittling cough, he chokes: he
    leaves
Trembling, soon after. You slump back down in a chair
Cold as a leaf, your heart scarcely moving…

Deep under the city’s deepest stone
This grinning sack is bursting with your blood.