I've Got the Measure of You

When regarding this piece, it must be said that I, myself, do not view any of my "angry" pieces to be great or fine pieces of literature, I save that for Emily, however, they contain a required burst of emotion. I do not overwork these pieces intentionally, in the hope that they retain the feeling of that all-consuming, one-dimensional rage.
I wrote this after messaging the person who had allowed me to join a Facebook in relation to a small publication. I supplied links to my sites and a pleasant message that I hoped she would like my work. I received a message back advising that I should not contact her through her personal page and only through the official publication site. 

(rejected by Lopsided Magazine)

I've Got the Measure of You.

Come, my fellow students, come one, come all,

I await you with open arms,

Because I hate you,

Each and every one.

I am not an animal, I am a man,

I am not an animal, I am a man,

I am not a troll, I am a pan,

Cooking,

Cooking up your fucking guts, Sir.

Where are the radicals?

You shower of screen-dosed shits.

Where are writers?

They’re lazing in their pits.

And Why am I the Best? You say,

This side of the Mersey,

Because there’s nothing here,

You dozy does,

And there’s even less,

Where youse be.

Dinnae gee me shite wee man,

Or wee wifie in yer ivory tower,

Dinnae gie me atty-tude,

Eh can slip right in,

An oo a it,

An tak a blow,

An member gettin chibbed in the Cutty Sark,

An member gettin loved-up in the dark,

An aa the hoaspital,

An aa the bench in the park,

An aa, an now ye look glaickit.

Ye look like a fool.

Cos Eh – Eh reached oot tae ye,

Ye foul scum.

An ye rejected me, like the shite on yer shin,

Ah fuckin hate ye, ye foul scum,

Ahm better wi ma ain.

Did ye hear me scum?

Ahm better wi ma ain.