Revenge of Gristle

A corroding stocking full-

Lambskin and beet-turnip chutney-

Wafting through the innards notching,

Latched below and sifting,

A seemingly lucid gristle-

Wriggles vigilantly to-

Space within-

Draining a proportional,

Siphoning-transferring-stealthily becoming,

Only the charismatic few-

Understand the where and how,

Half will never render-

A decision leading –

To a journey’s end-

A series-

Channels of aggressive introspective-

By rivers trickling-

 A fortnight table’s overflow-

 Of diseased stocking enjambments-

Rancid, spoiling-

A foul rendition

Raping with its overture-

While the gristle hid and watched-

Wrinkling nose-

A sacrifice

To observe

A satisfactory condition-

For what they’ve done-

For what we’ve lost-

And so-

The gristle glistened-

Soaked and unpleasant still-

Cadaverous smile-

Liver to lung